x marks the spot where my bones are anterling in their nests. here is where tonight we dig like moles searching again for the deep & dark. underneath every designation is another & another. i put xs on the sun & xs on my father's back & xs at the back of my throat. here is where the treasure is a gasp of plums. sugaring a street of pineapple promise rings. i burry everything that i'm scared to lose. telling a whole year "get into the hole." all my glasses shot in the foot. i am not the map maker. that is someone else's coping. coasters were meant to unbecome. the jaws of a great fish. most of the time there is nothing on the other side of an x. sometimes it is better to stand from a distance & say maybe maybe maybe this time an angel will come & unearth me exactly as i am. i want to delve just to find i was always so good. the distance between who marks & who find the mark & who lives the mark. xs grow around me like dandelions. bloom is a word only for boys now. i buy a trowel & live inside it while my father holds the handle. he says, "son" & i turn. he is not speaking to me. i draw another x. this time i am deliberiate. the cave is empty is empty is empty & always was.