Nightshade

How Lazarus would have rejoiced.

Or did he discover his return

jarring, his reputation for resurrection

thwarting intimacy, rendering dialogue

absurd?

We sleep so deeply, with such malefic

pleasure, its disruption

is grating – to awaken into desire

and discontentment. To become

a root without a branch, blossoms

long forgotten,

slipping into absence.

First published in La Piccioletta Barca, Issue 21 - July 2020