Resurrection
In
the grip of night
I
arrange all of the articles
each
item its own spell
with
its own word
and
each of those a mystery
I
lay out meeting points
where
lines converge
trace
out arcane symbols
in
smoke-filled air
and
walk the dread circumference
at
the limit of the sun's glare
I
light the magic candles
wave
my hands
speak
out with feral noise
against
all distance
upend
the laws of silence
spit
in the face of his disinterest
and
raise the dumb dead
proud
and assembled
to
steal a march on dawn
baying
in the dim light gathered
doubly
furious with the day
for
being born
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