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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