The Creation of the Second Passion (Bronx, New York)

by Mary Hamrick

I’m sure the first passion started out as something unpleasant or sinful,
and it took in all the five senses:
like the slow, buildup smell of the streets
or the tinny sound of a buzz right before death
or the gritty, sweet-salty tang of blood
or the sight of a charred building
or the feel of a slap.
Everything--no longer beautiful.

An incantation brought about a second passion:
a sweet passion glazed with contrition.
A ritual tamed its wildlife and clenched fists were still.

Good passion grew like magic, healing the wounded city,
and it took in all the five senses:
like the smell of a fresh loaf of bread
or the sound of a violin’s highest note
or the taste of a soft kiss
or the sight of an architect’s hands
or the handshake from a neighbor.
Everything--grew thick and luscious.