My dog plays in the garden
The phone rings out a sound
I’ve left the door ajar too long
and they are underground.
I organize the bookshelves
the soft and leatherbound
and smile in silence in my home
as they are underground.
I dress in soft pajamas
with laundry strewn around
and I ignore each sock and shirt.
They are still underground.
I read another story
My once-lost keys are found
I simply go about my day
while they are underground.
I live the same day over
just like a tape rewound
Each week becomes an itching blur
as they stay underground.
I say again that I am fine
with rancor all around.
Of course. I’m good. What else to say?
They’re starving. They are bound
and when will they be found?
We stand on higher ground
with ashes all around.
I strain to hear the siren’s call
and they are underground.
