An olive tree lurks out of a giant’s right nostril.
His expression is gormless, but cruel.
A tart balsamic vinegar smell emanates
from his scalped skull exposed to bird shit and rain.
The gravedigger is regretting his choice of profession.
6 by 6 is bad enough never mind this monstrosity
which he measures by the length of his shadow.
The sky is cranium squished grey.
Rain is mumbling into the dirt.
Each drop is a dormant blossom thinks the gravedigger.
In his old age, he often falls prey to sentimentality.
The giant is simply a son he never knew he had.
Death had united them.
He holds the giant’s hand
and kisses it like a devoted mother
in a black shawl, below a portrait of Christ
in a candle lit room in 1930’s Idaho.
(Very specific).
The giant steps into his earthly bed
‘You need to lie down to sleep.’
He crouches, sits, then with gentle beckoning
lies down. ‘Time to go, ok? Everything’s fine. You are safe.’
The giant blinks once.
‘Look at the sky. See how the stars form out of the rain.’
As the giant gazes upwards,
he takes out a butcher’s knife,
slices neck from right
to left. He grins, begins to form
a word with mushroom wet lips
but never finishes.
The Gravedigger, aka Mr Charles Night
begins to carve open the giant’s neck
So that he with much grunting and swearing
may form his flesh enclosed grave.
He steps in, black boot by black boot.
He covers himself in organs,
slowly drowning himself in blood and gore
Before sealing the wound with rose stems
grown from his mother’s grave.
He nuzzles up next to the still heart.
One year later an unseemly tall oak tree will stand
on top of the giant’s grave.
The caretaker, bandaged by leaves older than most men
hears three knocks echo from inside the oak tree
and with an axe and saw, carves out a door,
before forming a handle with his blood.
The caretaker opens the door
and a young child drenched in sap
and wearing an adult’s black suit
falls out gasping.
‘About time’ says the caretaker,
‘It’s nearly my turn.’
-- Doctor Lazarus, a narrative poem, was David Hay’s first published piece. Since then, his work has appeared in numerous online journals. He has a collaborative piece, Amor Novus / A Spontaneous Prayer published with Soyos Books, Saxon Suites by Back Room Poetry. His novel How High the Moon is forthcoming from Anxiety Press and his debut poetry collection is out now with Ballerini Book Press.