cave cricket

i turn myself tangle-legged
& follow the cave crickets.
they arrive when i am too busy 
to tend to their voices like thumbs
inside a metal throat. they tell 
fragment stories. i explain to them
that i am scared of the future.
they are confused by the concept
of fear. a heart to them is just a place
you run from. their bodies
& my body, the same in this regard.
i do not sleep well. instead, i make a second home
among the night creatures. we get into
a routine of holding tiny confessions.
i apologize for promoting catholicism
even in this covert form. the creatures
are not good at confessing but they come
to learn. finally they are saying,
"i did not miss him when he disappeared
into the fields" & "i crave my mother
even though i never met her."
i get to confess too. i tell them about
my need to be liked by everyone i meet.
the crickets ask, "do you know you are
not a carnivore?" i said, "i guess i do not."
the crickets teach me how to turn my body
into an instrument. we thrum together
until i have to go & get a knuckle's worth
of sleep. the crickets stay up. i hear them
in the walls & all the creases of the house.
i am envious that they get to keep
their skeletons on the outside. instead,
mine is buried like backyard bones. 
soundless. still i find ways to make it sing.