-
it was, for her~
a question, a dare to venture into a
place that few would ever visit
more than once in a lifetime
walled with earth, rock, twists and
turns, shadows that move—
bones that lay still
a smart phone was recovered there,
the woman who left it is somewhere
deep in the lower chambers
it recorded her unapproved descent into
miles of dark passages which multiply,
divide, intersect— mystify
images steady at first, a wonderment
of sheer expansiveness, these arteries
go on forever and ever !
"i need to tell someone !"—
"ohh, no
signal..."
a "sotto voce" begins questioning confusion
as her disorientation becomes a
measure of breath
curiosity now relinquishes to a desperation
of sharp huffs as the camera aims about
in quick jolts, straining to see the
next hopeful opening—
the light stops
working.
minutes later she realizes her affiliation
with the underground brethren has
been met with tacit approval.
her phone is eventually abandoned with
all remaining composure, as a new
and permanent member commences
a delirious marathon down
the corridors of
home
—
the recording lasted awhile before
her drowning cries dissolved into
resolution of a sealed fate—
underneath and silent,
amongst thousands
of opened mouths...
s jones
© 2020
.
that urban legend (or maybe not) of a camera
found deep in a catacomb somewhere in Paris—
"Seranaea—nized" for your hopeful enjoyment...
(remembering Sasha Rey...)
