Monday, December 27, 2010

A Shovel’s Pulse By Jasen Sousa

A Shovel’s Pulse


Every August 17th
I go to the hardware store
and buy a shovel.

I leave my car
in the lot,
put the shovel over my shoulder
and march to the same patch of grass.

I begin at hell
and go deeper.

Shadows mock me,
I dig for answers.

I reach the casket
and lie on top of it,

my breath creates a fog
on the dirt-covered wood.

I carve his initials
and watch them disappear.

I speak and hope
one of these times,
my friend will hear.




Taken From
Humming Eternity By Jasen Sousa (Written During Emerson College Era)
©

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