“Oaken Chest”

9 Jan

“Oaken Chest”

Return to a schoolhouse from the past

to vanish your memories

we never got the chance to grow older

yesterday’s cereal boxes

written on childhood caves

as the oxen shower

in a transitional fever

parkas soak from green to black

warm years turned moldy

talking with stilts

in an abandoned house

where we were alive once

alive and well…

or as much as anyone else

creeps the alleys, fangs the tigers

what was lost.

That’s the most horrible story

in all the world.

Is the teller deceased?

Has he broken his vows?

We played in the woods

lost on milk cartons

you never saw us

the ghost of your past harm

though we saunter

past gravestones serene

leave a little locket by your bedside

powder box of dreams

to vanish your memories.

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