An Attempt to Unearth
1 Minute Read Time
Maybe laid under two tons
of dirt. Miles under sea level,
pressed between blocks of cinder or
other things that weigh
down. Squeezed
and held by aluminum cans, Styrofoam
cups, half-eaten protein bars,
in the trucks haul, only to be lost
in compression. Closer, behind
the plaster, the drywall,
the paint held up by the walls
that brace your house, your
frame. The batter that built
the cake, it’ll spoil whether or not
you eat it. Behind the rubber
of the balloon before it slips
and falls skyward. We keep
the dead where you’d expect us
to. How else would we find them?
Read more from Issue 18.2.