Lazarus

lazarus
we have
raised you
up again.
you are
justly
ungrateful.
mute,
your eyes
tell me this
much.
peeling
callouses
off your
black feet
i am no
mother
to you.
nor am
i sister
changing
the linen,
tending to
your raw
wounds.
still we
look at
one another
humbled
by the
profane.
wrapped
around
your bird
thin
wrist:
st jude,
plastic
rosary
beads,
corazon
de jesus.
and I think
how cruel
to leave
your
prayer
unanswered.

For J.M., who died virtually alone after being hospitalized for months. He was only twenty four years old.