Reflections On The Shroud Poem by Alexandre Nodopaka

I ponder the wetness outside
And inside me.
It is almost quiet everywhere.

Lounging in a Roman robe,
Unshaven, I hear a twitter.
Is it your bird or mine that echoes

Its need of cryptic feeding and
Trying to entreat with this missive
To implore celestial roofers

To repair my leaky ceiling
Damaged by the recent downpour.
The stain is visibly yellow

Makes me think of the holy savior
As I stuff the ceiling hole
With a small piece of a worn linen.

I hope the face, if any, comes gold
As the proof of the truth must rest
Between the ceiling and the roof.