I would have exhumed you with my fingernails
And reclaimed my childhood from your finitude.
But nature never mourned you before taking you back
This thick blanket of dirt
Won’t let me in.
There is so little I know of you.
I do not know whether the sunlight
Can infiltrate your coffin
And warm your bones
I do not know whether you can stretch in the morning
I don’t even know,
How many inches of your skin,
It has been around a thousand and ninety five mornings,
It only took God three days to
Resurrect his son.
Note: The title of this poem was borrowed from Sufjan Steven’s eponymous song