The Resurrection 

Martha Rhodes


I found myself looking down

from the ceiling of an unfamiliar room,

empty but for a chair, desk and my husband.

He was on the floor,

his eyes and mouth still open

and dark.  I lowered myself, somehow

pumping the blood stalled in his veins

back into circulation; it was all effortless, his cheeks

reddened, he rose to standing, and through me

passed, no thank you, no recognition, resuming

his work as if it had never stopped.