Joseph of Nazareth, Bridegroom

Joseph ofNazareth, Bridegroom As a boy, I dreamt I would be a king someday, like David maybe, or Solomon, and dress in fine linen and gold. And now this other dream, stranger, more dazzling. What I wonder is, Can a man believe in dreams? My friends, I fear, will sense something awry. A chance remark, some jest, will touch the quick and set them all to whispering, like girls. If anyone asks, I'll say she bathes my feet, brushes the cedar shavings from my beard. And then I'll wink, slyly. But none will ask. Tonight I sat at the table, drinking wine, while she cleared the supper bowls and brought a lamp. We did not speak. Her sandals rasped the floor. I wanted to say, Tell me, I will understand. But the wine rose in my throat when she turned to me, her hand cupping the lamp's low flame, her face so mild, so full oflight, I almost wept. This blanket's thin. The nights are growing chill. I lie awake, not moving, listening to the faint rustling of straw from across the room, her quiet breathing. I ask myself, What if she woke and came into my bed, her warm breath sweet with clove? And so I pray, or try to pray. And though I tell myself over and over the dream the dream my love throbs in the night like a hammered thumb. Daryl E. Jones Boise State University 196 ...