Lazarus rises from the grave, New York City, 2023

after Nick Cave

               judging by the canary feathers jutting from your mouth
i’d say you’ve come bearing mercy but sometimes
               a cigar is just a cigar. you’ve been feasting on roadkill again.

centuries from Bethany, in a city where only factories close
               quicker than caskets, the lights of New York dissolve before you
like ice on a bruise. you graffiti your grave on every subway map

               in Crown Heights, Astoria, Van Cortlandt Park, always east
of Eden. poor Larry. you never asked to be raised from your tomb.
               you only longed to win the love of longshoremen
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