Resurrection by Louise Carson

One’s tempted, as one sings, to bring it down,
to growl, murmur, push into the ground,
where our senses end, earth absorbs the rest
(heart, lungs, bones, brain, tongue,
cock, womb, teeth, blood, liver)
and we begin to resonate
in slow repayment, an absorbing sound
to fill our ears. We’re specially attuned.
Each body has its own fundamental,
its own individual tone: the solid A,
quavery C sharp, deep low E,
that issues from some striving, to home,
where doubtless hum the stars, if we could hear,
and where that home might be, if heard, we’d see.

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