CAVES I’VE ENTERED BUT DON’T KNOW THE NAMES OF, IF THEY HAVE NAMES, AND, IF THEY DON’T, WHO AM I TO GIVE THEM ONE?
by Joseph Lafata
I place my body in one’s sleeve and listen to the stones,
my ears full of echoes from elsewhere, from else-time. I am
so lonely yet bothered by other living things. I place my body
in one’s sleeve and listen to the stones—they screech as silent
as the trees, slurring things like “I’m so alone and bothered
by other living things, things with teeth and axes like you. They screech
as loud as animals, slurring things like ‘to stay warm and to contribute
and to survive, to go on.’” Like teeth and axes and things like you,
things that burn with the ability and subsequent need to burn. To stay
warm and to contribute and to survive, to go on. This is what fills
my ears, these echoes from elsewhere. Things that burn
with the ability and subsequent need to burn, to devour, to go on.
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