top of page

Descending Theology: The Resurrection by Mary Karr

He is Risen!

Poem by Mary Karr From the far star points of his pinned extremities, cold inched in—black ice and squid ink— till the hung flesh was empty. Lonely in that void even for pain, he missed his splintered feet, the human stare buried in his face. He ached for two hands made of meat he could reach to the end of. In the corpse’s core, the stone fist of his heart began to bang on the stiff chest’s door, and breath spilled back into that battered shape. Now

it’s your limbs he comes to fill, as warm water shatters at birth, rivering every way.


bottom of page