Lisa Marie Blair

Essays from a compulsive writer and professional overthinker. She/They

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1–2 minutes

Resurrection

Easter by Marie Howe

Two of the fingers on his right hand
had been broken

so when he poured back into that hand it surprised
him — it hurt him at first.

And the whole body was too small. Imagine
the sky trying to fit into a tunnel carved into a hill.

He came into it two ways:
From the outside, as we step into a pair of pants.

And from the center — suddenly all at once.
Then he felt himself awake in the dark alone.

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