a fantasy of love is
a sinkhole
full of water and deaths,
of hearts torn in sacrifice to
false gods, human gods,
indignities, caricatures of reality

I gave everything to them
believing
because it was easier,
because it was the program,
the curriculum,
the single choice available to me

it made of me a cenote,
drowned my heart in waters
caught
by the stony hole
in the indifferent jungle

sank me
in a deep blue hole
waiting to be discovered
by you, who made
of me a treasure, a precious cargo
priceless
worthy
beloved


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater