(me playing around with an ending--still can't get it just right)

Humans Die Once

A temporary miracle of resurrection
not quite like Jesus, I nail you
to the closet door, nail you
to the sliding wooden door with
hands outstretched, and you hang
there by request, by a need
for comfort, a smiling corpse
beside an array of Sunday dresses.
Your purification system of death
like a water filter, you drip
to the bottom cleansed, pure,
whole with nature, knowing that
even in the purification of his
resurrection, Lazarus suffered twice.