As Falls

I woke to a dream dissolving:
You, buried under the Flint Hills,
at the bottom of a grassy green sea,
where once a blue sea,
now you, with a pen in hand.
And underneath the Flint Hills,
you wrote your own epitaph.
On a dinosaur bone,
you wrote, “Here lies one
with words and time,”
and you cinched it
to a grey balloon
then you sent it up with a kiss
to announce your final resting place
after another million years of erosion.
I dreamed the Flint Hills
as a named subdivision
in a shining, Wichita suburb,
every cozy house a tombstone
over a hundred long-buried yous.

As Falls

26 thoughts on “As Falls

Sock it to me

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