lesson

scarely breathing now
i watch your receeding back
shivering like an echo cardiogram's
final ping. flatline.

the cave was so huge tom & huck
got lost for weeks, wasn't it?
everyone thought they were dead.
drag the river for corpses but
nothing showed up. still, a funeral
had to be held. closure was needed.
that's how communities held themselves
together, in mutual grief and comfort,
when paddleboats were king of the river.



i stood at its mouth and called you.
nothing showed up. i sent you off
with a kiss. you said i love you
and disapeared. it's dark in there.
you had your supplies and a lamp,
a map of favorite hidey holes.
genies and lamps to rub.
you told me you didn't want to come back
but i didn't believe you. now i do.
i left a note there at the entrance
but i'm pretty sure you're gonna take
the back way out. i guess i'll just go
tell the townspeople we'll never know
what became of you. they'll bring
casseroles and fried chicken to the service.
i'll bring a plate of twenty different
kinds of olives and some mixed nuts.
i'll eat one of each kind. also some fried
chicken. with every bite i'll swallow
a piece of hope and when i'm done
grief can take the leftovers
back to the cave and leave them
in the imprint i made in the mud.
i'm not exactly hungry and you don't like olives
but i've been craving sustenance and the oil
might be useful , if you're still inside.