The News of Dominic's Death
caused bones to sprout
from the earth, the dead
demanding a do-over,
no longer fit for the grave
now that Dominic had
crumbled, tumbled
down six feet to dwell
with them in dirt.
They rose, carried him
on broken shoulder blades,
hoisted him with moldering
hands, stomped with
fleshless feet into the town
where Dominic drew his last.
Dominic, not yet decayed,
propped in the church door
and drew screams and prayers
from the Sunday-gathered,
the priest making a tiny circle
with his tempetous mouth.
The dead awaited a miracle.
O Dominic, Sainted Dominic,
you were the best of us,
your hope like eager teeth,
promise stamped in your DNA--
if you go, so go we.
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