After the Thaw

Killing me, this coming back to life.

The tissue softens,

ice disengages from flesh,

though taut sinews are still brittle,

muscles do not un-tense.

I am, in life again,

other than I was before.

There was a grave, unmade;

no ceremony as I rise again.

A bird was singing,

sweet raven unsuited to cry

over such as me,

and one woman who may

have loved me,

watching with uncertainty

in the middle distance,

who I blame for killing me

with her kindness.

She has brought me back

for reasons unknown.