RESURRECTION

RESURRECTION

I am the Resurrection.

Each morning I drag myself from bed,

Rolling away the heavy sheet I wrapped ’round myself

for comfort,

All night long.

Jesus, where’s the fucking coffee-filter?

Jesus, you don’t have the muscle anymore,

it takes

To roll the weight I’ve been rolling away, every day

From the mouth of my own cave.

Here we are again!

Awake, but blurry-eyed,

When we look at the lives we’ve each brought back from the dead;

From the cave of shadows,

From the dancing on our walls.

Fire does animate the hole;

(Fire is in the whole).

The bad impersonation of the sun

Those disco-dancing

Flames assume,

Leave me adrift

Afloat in the sea of my own shortcomings.

Who are you, reading this?

And who do you suspect this voice to to be ?

You and I, we are just meeting here by chance.

Somewhere outside of time

Somewhere in these words.

Somewhere near the entrance

Of this cave that each of us,

So rapidly emerges from.

Filed under: new poetry Tagged: Igor Goldkind