And if there is a day of resurrection
then on that day may the water in the creek shimmer
green, a music never heard take shape in a hatch
of caddis and coffin flies, the air bluing as the sun’s light
dries insect wings, and the bear skull on the ridge,
the circle of porcupine quills, the mink’s eye sockets
and the coyote’s hinged jaw still clutched around the rabbit’s femur,
may all the bones of the living and the dead rise
with skeletal praise, this ancient world being remade
in their image.
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