Tuesday Poem

Afterthoughts of Lazarus

I’m glad you brought me back, but
this business of dying has its own attractions

The self grows smaller—not less—but smaller
harder, intense like carbon
growing bright or dark in the deep earth.

You glide to the ideal of the point,
location without dimension.

by Nils Peterson
The Dear Time of our Talking
Frog on the Moon, small press, 2020