Buried

Alright.

If you twist and twine enough, will you grow—wings?

Or will you stay planted in the ground

Six feet,

Underground.

“You’re going to be alright,”

they say

Is it as savage as it feels?

If I wry and wreathe enough, will I find the words?

Or will I stay silent in the ground

Six feet,

Under ground,

Alright

Alright.

All right?