A hole opened in the earth
One morning, you fell in
Suddenly, like fainting
the ground closing over your head
solid all the way down
As I dug, desperate
under the clouded sun
I could hear your voice
from the dun clodded nothing
And there were other voices with you,
the living, buried
I wondered, is it me who’s dead?
Is this ground beneath my feet just
the memory of dirt?
Is my skin the trace of being touched?
After a time,
they called me from the spot
where I was rooted
Stooge on a ledge in a film
Wondering, how you could breath
under all that
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