I had to sacrifice the meter, but here's the next stanza of that poem as it stands now. It will certainly go through substantial revision before it's complete.
Blow that trumpet Angel and watch me rise.
I'm sleeping in my grave; It's time to wake.
The only skies I need are in your eyes.
Up on the grassy hill where the child dies,
pulled apart across a wooden stake,
tug that rope now Honey and watch him rise.
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