Gently they stir, gently rise



The dead are newborn awakening





With ravaged limbs and wet souls





Gently they sigh in rapt funeral amazement





Who called these dead to dance?





Was it the young woman learning to play the ghost song on her baby grand?





Was it the wilderness children?





Was it the ghost god himself, stuttering, cheering, chatting blindly?





I called you up to anoint the earth





I called you to announce sadness falling like burned skin





I called you to wish you well





To glory in self like a new monster





And now I call you to pray