I am awake on a boat, burning.
They are burning me dead and
alive. I am awake, a second time,
at a long table. I count the faces;
trace the names sat light on my
tongue of loves and lovers, eyes
bright to see me and
someone pours me a drink.

What’s this ache of music?
How could this hall be so warm?
How many hands can possibly land
on my back with a clap, drag me fast
to feasting embrace and say;
we have been waiting for you.
You have made us so proud.