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A Spoonful of Resurrection

April 12, 2017

Each morning

               when I roll over

               and open the corner of one eye

               and the light wiggles through like an impatient child,

       my first thought is of you.



A small prayer separates my lips:

               for a sprinkling of fairy dust

               that I might rise from these wrinkled sheets

               and leave a night of old death;

       to taste a spoon full of resurrection.



And, if not too much to ask,

               that as I begin to stand,

               my arched back might

               be green amidst brown grass

       surprising a stranger passing by.




(photo by Ed Siderewicz)

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