Selected Poems

Bat Cave, N.C.

Stanley found the way in, a narrow crack 
high on the north face, hidden under a slide 
of granite. The roof was low at first, then rose 
sharply away from us, up to high walls
where great slabs leaned, balancing on one edge, 
grinding fulcrums into a flinty dust.  
Stanley was charmed, a flickering flashlight
among the ruins. He taught me how to sift 
through holes and crevices, how to look straight 
at the heart of the mountain, and go on.
We sank into oblivion like Jonah,
bound into darkness. Then the bats awoke,
and rose into the temple of the night,
innumerable prayers for the dead.

(published in Nexus)