Forget about commandments

 

            When you’re coming down the mountain

 

            I’ll have a loaf at hand

            And salted fish

            Delicately seared in olive oil

            With onions on the side

 

            Tomatoes too, if they’re in season

            And are ripe

 

            You’ll tell me of the wilderness

            As you tend your wounded feet

 

            But most of all about the scales –

            How and when they fell, what you beheld

 

            Alone and unafraid