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Day’s dull drizzle.
Some foolish bells splash
Lazarus’ sleep to bring him forth.
Well-sealed the surrounding light.

I too had a few to bring forth
but they didn’t reply if they wanted.

How could they reply
with that eavesdropper you left well-sealed
the surrounding light.

Then again why ask if they want.
The miracle doesn’t ask.
It grabs you by the ear and
dragging hurls you into the light.
You rejoice of course in the glare, I don’t disagree
but a worm the worry eats away inside you
perhaps the miracles are mortal.

Better to leave them there then
so we don’t for a second time
have to take up their empty beds.

Have you heard nothing?
And yet, all this time in here
chatting with whatever to get some air
it was you I was talking to down there.
So I didn’t address you?
Of all the Lernaean names which one
should I choose to call you.
Whichever I cut when seeking you
another grows on the spot.