Breath stops but bones last forever.   

Pitched into coal black rivers 

 

or hidden under stones, what’s 

left of us refuses to be ignored. 

 

Stumbled over by hunters, 

uncovered by children playing 

 

hide and seek, our connective

tissues, frost tossed, rain soaked,

 

emerge from the underground

amnesia like repressed memories

 

as though nature wants to offer

testimony about what humans do 

 

to one another, refusing to conspire

in the disappearances we lie about,

 

throwing back in our shamed faces

secrets we trusted the ground to keep.

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