Archaeology
I watch you disappear again into another graveyard...
Archaeology
From this side,
the window doesn't
glisten,
even though the errant sun
is just as
furious
fingering the knots
in my stomach
like a string of
prayer beads,
I watch you disappear
again into another
graveyard,
your haunted eyes
bend the light–
not one gleam
of emerging
bone,
not one shard
of glass is
lost.
They reach for you,
like so many lost
children, hoping you
can tell them
their names.
Sean Downing, poet, musician, teaches high school English and Theater Arts in Pagosa Springs, Colorado. He can often be found in his woodshop, coaxing music from odd scraps of junk, or haunting the trout streams around southwest Colorado. If you see him, don't tell anyone: they're probably looking to get an honest day's work out of him.
If you enjoyed this post, hit the ♡ to let us know.
If you have any thoughts about it, please leave a comment.
If you think others would like it, hit re-stack or share:
If you’d like to read more:
To help create more Juke, upgrade to a paid subscription (same button above). Otherwise, you can always contribute a one-time donation via Paypal or Venmo.
 | A guest post by
|
It is good to see your poetry here, Sean, though I also read your poems on your Facebook page. The opening for "Archaeology" is memorable:
From this side,
the window doesn't
glisten,
It suggests a way of seeing. Then we learn of other ways we might see. And yes, there is the gift of names. Who should name us? Who might carry our names? I value your search.