At the far edge of the yard
where you told us not to play:
of course we went there.
Of course we were going to find
whatever it was
you wanted to keep hidden.
We dug and dug, a kind of doom
we couldn’t stop ourselves
from becoming,
watching the dirt pile up–
a mountain,
a one way trip to the bottom
of something we couldn’t possibly
imagine until we did,
pulling it out by the neck,
forcing it to breathe.
