I’ve been digging through past lives for
in five feet, eleven inches of
deceit dust covering everything
I know! How many times did he shed his skin
back here? Dead parasites are proof!
He was on the roof when it caved.
Climbed over four hundred days
with water and
He left spoons and mattress burns below him,
tribe familiars blossomed following his climb,
And he climbed, praising God, until he reached
We cried and we sang!
We wrapped our hugs in packages with golden bows,
throwing them to a skeptical world! We danced, twirled
through moon phases, a
Then, a sharp raucous!
Brusque thunder crushing eardrums!
Blood poured from our ears
as the noise devastated. Bible pages
fell like confetti over
our joy; a tearful,
We fell and we cried!
We wrapped our memories in boxes with golden locks,
sealing them, our treasures. Silently, we
remembered, our Requiem,
All we know is that he climbed,
and that underneath five feet, eleven
inches of his dust, it is
in God that we place our