Rising like Dough, the Sun,
Lazarus Three Days
After
Your pilfered sticky bun friends,
he said
wiping honey from the corners
of his mouth,
and she did not say a word,
stood stoic as a hat rack,
then he licked his fingers,
the honey blood of his fingers
one by one
looking down at the baking tray –
now ghost town
empty –
except for some crumbs
like the ruins
of some burnt out
city.