“Resurrection” was written at a moment of personal pain that felt like a kind of death, a moment with no way forward. I was inspired by the story of Lazarus, wrapped in his burial cloths, and yet rising to new life.


To begin again she’ll have to crack the scab’s dark wax
And dive, miniaturized, into the swiftly opening fjord.

She’ll have to hear the currents in the cerebellum folds,
Resting warm within the opened bone.

Often she’ll stand blinking at the empty window,
Molecules slip-streaming past their docks.

As wind cells travel through her hollows to the poles,
Plum-cherry pulse will slowly sweeten flesh.

And just beneath the desiccated linen
Thick microbes’ pili lead the way to life.

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