Ιf I was dead

If I was dead, and my bones adrift like dropped oars in the deep, turning earth;

or drowned, and my skull a listening shell on the dark ocean bed;

if I was dead, and my heart soft mulch for a red, red rose;

or burned, and my body a fistful of grit, thrown in the face of the wind;

if I was dead, and my eyes, blind at the roots of flowers, wept into nothing,

I swear your love would raise me out of my grave, in my flesh and blood,

like Lazarus; hungry for this, and this, and this, your living kiss.

Carol Ann Duffy, από τη συλλογή Rapture (London: Picador, 2005)