one hand 

your mother was scared
of sink holes

she read aloud the 
headlines about a home
in florida where a sink hole
swallowed a little boy--

eight years old

he reached his hand out
from the mouth of a sea monster--

fingers turning red as
he was chewed--

floor board teeth--
grit gravel tongue--

he died 

& there's another
sink hole forming
in your grandparent's  
backyard--

i never got to see
it for myself but
i imagined a whirlpool

a bath tube drain

emptying our bodies
of bone--

i don't think much about
sink holes 

but when i loved you
i worried you would
get devoured by one--

in your back yard
soft from april rain--
barefoot i saw
your ankles sinking--

twisting-- 

the ground planted
with shark jaws

i tried to think 
of what i would do 
if you ended up
like that boy-- hand 
holding onto a piece
of sky--

i would probably walk away
out fear--

maybe i would find
a thrust of courage--
entangling my fingers
with yours--

tugging your arms
loose from its socket--

i think my greatest fears
were realized when 
i kneeled in front
of you & realized there
was nothing i could do
to make myself love you again 

your skin reminded me 
of sand in winter--

of firework ashes--

now sometimes when i 
take walks i think 
see sink holes
opening in the middle
of the trail--

i see the last 
glimpse of that boy
as he tries
to understand what 
could be happening--

did he even know
the earth could do that
to us?

contort-- pucker--
consume us at will--

did he pray?

open his mouth to 
shout to his mother?

i know that it's selfish
but i hope if you're eaten
by the soil beneath you
that maybe you'll
think to call out to me--

maybe you won't know
why or what that means--

i would come--

i'm older now

i would know not to try 
& yank you free--

i would take your hand
& push it deeper--

this is to say that
i would expect you
do the same for me--

if in your own throat 
you feel my name

swallow hard--