Resurrection

Midnight toiling through a graveyard,

Brittle shadows leaping

Through impossible resurrection,

Laughing in the light of one dim candle;

Falters, as one faint staccato clack

Of bones bleached with remembrance

Call up Lazarus, crawling backwards,

Harried through lost generations

Dancing wild with rotten rags.

Flying round a creaking gibbet

Their hollow rattle points the compass;

Returns less mute with hanging flesh

To tell us of his fabled grave,

Then crumples in one jointless heap,

Their secrets locked in sainted relics

Prolong eternal discourse.