Finn Phillips
we went into the ground.
there was no meaning to it, no poetry,
no grace. but we went down
into the soil where it was dark and cool, where the winter couldn't find us.
the ground froze.
we froze, too.
most came out and saw the sun again—
squinted our eyes into the clean light, strangers.
some stayed where they were.
we broke the ground and took them up
into the fire, the headlights,
where the ice melted in their blood, and they shivered like newborns.
the last few did not stir again.
we went into the ground.
