Resurrection

By Margaret Tongue

For Viktor Vida

It is like angels -
A glass leopard stirring
In the depths of sleep -
It is like that.

It is like children
Staring at the winter sun
As if through a slender glass,
Through a narrow throat;
It is like that.
It is spiralling upwards
In crystal,
It is quiet, like air
Moving between crystal glasses;
It is like
It is like that.

Why at me?
Your nearness, a sword
Of glass, pierces my dreams.
Children stare like this
At the darkening sun.

When I dive into deeper dreams
Spiralling upwards,
In chrystal, in flight,
The leopard stirs.
It is like that.

It is like angels.
I start, because
Dear fingers are waking me -
Like air, your nearness.
It is like
It is like that.