Ten Years After Graduation, I Was Invited to Our Class Reunion

(Stream of consciousness + mystery + memoir and musings)

When love turns to hate,

when death becomes life,

when an ironwood tree blooms in splendor,

when flesh grows upon dry bones.

When you crawl out of the earth,

stand in the sunlit rain,

and leap back into that sonnet.

A drop of water will touch my hollow eye socket.

With its help, the light

will write you once more in the reflection in my eyes.

I reach out a dirt-covered hand,

and touch your cold skin.

I say: It doesn't matter.

My dead body does not fear the cold.