It's a complicated memory, that Easter.
It was April Fools’. We joked
Jesus played a trick
On the devils and the doubters,
God playing history for a fool.
Meanwhile, I was a fool for you.
Radiant in rose gold sequins and
A borrowed locket,
Locking my heart full of ash
Behind my teeth,
Begging God for a taste of resurrection,
And liveblogging my pain
To a love now buried.
You were my bird at the window
Of a tomb-dark room,
My fingernails’ last bleeding chance
To cling to sanity.
Your bedroom selfie,
Eyes looking into me
While you held up a holy cross,
Is still mixed up among my pictures
Of spring skies, Granny's kitchen,
Sisters’ smiles, and deviled eggs.
The gentleness in the boy I thought you were
Still bedevils me.
Good Lord, I couldn't imagine
Losing you so swiftly,
Or even you losing faith.
But hey, at least I also
Lost the gray grave-shroud
That smothered me.
This Easter maybe I will know
The flowers and the sky.
