Graves
Without a pickaxe to my name
I dug the graves with my fingernails
and buried there
the lures of all horizons.
Later in what seemed
but a pause of moments,
I returned to my cemetery
and found between two graves
a grave I never dug—
as if it held
the wanderings I never made
between one grave and the other.
I dug the graves with my fingernails
and buried there
the lures of all horizons.
Later in what seemed
but a pause of moments,
I returned to my cemetery
and found between two graves
a grave I never dug—
as if it held
the wanderings I never made
between one grave and the other.
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