Spring Cave

Spring Cave

We fitted ourselves with harnesses,

the nylon straps a hot pressure against our groins,

flashlights, loops of rope

resting their weight on our shoulders.

The mouth seemed to invite us,

its darkness dared us into its depths.

I reached for your hand when the floor declined.

Our footfall sent pebbles shifting,

rolling ahead of us in an invisible cascade

but your palm was slick and I soon lost your touch,

left to follow the rebound of your steps

that seemed to fall around me like rain.

Calling out brought back a hundred replies

and so I moved forward,

crouching and crawling through spaces

like wormholes that squeezed me in sickening grasps.

The rocks had been smoothed

by thousands of eager, searching hands, and in my wonder

I surrendered your shadow,

couldn’t choose it out of the dark,

lost even your echo,

and everywhere I turned

I met a further dark.