Resurrection

I am the snake that wraps your bones,
and satisfies your hunger.
I lift at once the pleated skirts
and leaden veil that you’ve been under.
Narcissus drew his warming life
from glassy lakes of self reflection
We drink through opened window eyes
and swim in springs of resurrection.

What can I say that will sound true
in the emptied cellars of my chest?
I offered wine so generously,
I spilled the dregs and drank the rest.
But on my tongue is still a taste
of what I gave and what was best
and now you creep in from the shade,
a riper vine than all the rest.