The Shelter of Coffins
Are we drawn toward getting under, breaking through, to bury ourselves in the cold, moist dirt
of disappearance? What came first, the crack, or the pieces of rubble in the crack?
In other words, did we start out playing
for the Cement Slabs, then go off on our own,
or did they kick us off the team? Okay, out with the questions
in with the myths: Once upon a time a great clanging was heard in the night
and when the sun arose the next day the Four-Holed Shiny Thing
was visible. It had crushed
our fearless leader, Moldy Pebble.
Some say he remains alive in shadow, awaiting
The Great Uplifting. Others believe he escaped into
the Large Dump Truck and will return one day
for the rest of us. Every year we make a pilgrimage
to the shrine of the Four-Holed Shiny Thing and pray at the altar
of the Moldy Pebble. I don’t know what happens if we don’t.
I haven’t gotten that far in the myth.