Broken stonework, sharp edges. I feel them
cutting my cheeks and chest. Maybe
someone took my legs? I feel cracked
at the edges and wheeze grit into my
lungs. Black. Dark. Silence. I shake
a little but not by myself. I think.
I am awake. I know it. How did I
get from my house to the cold earth?
Where is my wife. I’m embraced
by crumbled bricks, squeezing
blood out of me, cold sucking
on my bones, not making a sound.
No. I am dead. This is my stone cage
forever. This is it for me, no going back,
too much greed and lust. I deserve this.
Rolling. Careless. Laughter. I’m not
alone. The rock demon has me, for
keeps, in his soul-devouring belly.
I do not move. The juices do, they
are moving, flowing mud-like over
my face. I lick the juices. Again. They
taste like gravel and rotting soil,
sandy ooze clinging to my uvula
as I swallow, to become a stone.
Here, here, come, more diggers here!
Those waves. Wide black river, I
swim. Yes, the shore is there, not
too far away. Light. Ha, ha. I’ve crossed
to the other side. Maybe the demon
didn’t get me, I’ll be a stone, a round
one on the shore. With the others.
Take the hand. Also the other one. Pull!