The Bottle Diggers

The Snake

The SnakeIt had found a brother,a branch to stretch against.Both were gray with black argyle but the branch’srandom scabs of bark fell short of pattern.And the branch didn’t swell in slow motionlike its thicker twin,as a twitching rodent bulge passed barge-like, expanding,then deflating the diamond skinin glacial time, the snake’s black head pointing,like a finger in warning,eyes dull with processthat would go on at a pace painful only to us.We turned and looked away as in that dreamwhere you’re naked before a sea of eyes.You cover yourself with both hands,not godlike or dressed in fig leaf butgraceless, desperate to conceal.And…

The Bottle Diggers Away from the highway in the thick of leaveswe stumble on rubble, the foundation of a house.We scan the field for its onetime dump, for the subtle rise of hidden shapes, ground drapedlike the top of a pie. We walk through ourselves,search for bottles from another time, with boots and sticks we loosen the dirt from glinting heels and collarsthat stud the soil. Driven to find just one vessel intact,we sink to our knees to free each glimmer. Earth rises around us as if we, too, were broken glassor sullied china cups with yellow stems prancing aroundthe…

Catechism

Catechism Jenny Darsey said it was fact: they nailed his feet and hands to the tree. Then some guy stabbed him with a spear and blood gushed. There was blood everywhere, Jenny said. Like she was there. Then she ran to kick the ball. I held my breath. When Jenny came back, her face had changed. Then lowandbehoed, she said, just like that, lowandbehoed, He rose from the dead! I gasped, then chomped down hard on my sagging stick of red licorice.