We Dug That Tunnel with Spoons 

after James Tate

the size of shovels. They looked
like silver oars in the lamplight,
which made the dirt a chocolate
ice cream. “This is so sweet,” you
said behind me, pretending too.
We rowed that way through the

darkest soil, through the worms
and the roots, the tiny gems in
the jetsam. All night the coxswain
far ahead shouting “Stroke! Stroke!”
with such confidence we were
almost sure we could catch him.

first appeared in B O D Y


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