Lunch Break
I rearrange the mountain so I can disappear in it
just for my lunch break There is an opening in it
like the doggy door through which the bags are fed
at baggage claim onto the carousel Think of how many
mummies could fit inside of a mountain The pyramids
are gifts from humans of the past A mountain
can be conjured from the dust and made into
a casket Every body is a suitcase With every brick
a builder says We were here before
once again, we are made of what will soon be our grave, even our ornamentals
ReplyDeleteSo enjoyed today's poem, Hannah, and the Authier work.
ReplyDelete