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.