feces – From Bath to Cork with baby Grace

We’d all love to rise from the dead
and snatch a second chance
from the teeth of history.

Which of you would refuse resurrection
and leave the stones in place
until the winter breaks?

My death was cold
and stank of feces
left by swallows fit to glide away.

I never knew how long my death would last
until I rose again from the jaws of a mystery made
before the stars exploded

and the universe was saved.

Tag: feces