If I was dead,
And my bones adrift
Like dropped oars
In the deep, turning earth;

Or drowned,
And my skull
A listening shell
On the dark ocean bed;

If I was dead,
And my heart
Soft mulch
For a red, red rose;

Or burned,
And my body
A fistful of grit, thrown
In the face of the wind;

If I was dead,
And my eyes,
Blind at the roots of flowers
Wept into nothing,

I swear your love
Would raise me
Out of my grave,
In my flesh and blood,

Like Lazarus;
Hungry for this,
And this, and this,
Your living kiss.