A Recurring Nightmare
Does my lover
Bury people alive
standing up?
It’ll be my fault for noticing
these things that tend
To stick with me
That seem to put me
In the ground
That could
Make me stand straight up
Just to be buried
A hand to hold
Grasping at darkness
A hole just too big
Can’t grip or shimmy
Can’t climb, no restraint
just enough hopeless space
And a hand
Suddenly pulled away
As buckets of Earth
Start pouring in
So I couldn’t think
To sit
In time
Or stick up above the soil
just far enough
With these working memories
We have, all our sunshine
buried, every chance
grasping at us in light now beneath
Now darkness
“Where will the Earth seep
Toward the sky
For the relief of sight
Or being found?”
Why would you think
you could hide me
down here?
