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Rogers, James Silas / Sundogs
(2006)

Revisiting Oak Hill,   p. 13


Page 13

 
Revisiting Oak Hill 
Nights when worms came up 
from the saturated earth to breathe, 
my brother and I brought coffee cans 
and flashlights to this cemetery slope. 
We would sweep our feeble beams 
over the damp grass, looking for fat 
nightcrawlers drawn out like naked veins, 
and at a touch their forms became 
snatched-away ropes-tissue slipping 
through our fingers like water down a drain. 
When I was twenty-one, we buried my father 
a hundred yards farther up this hill. 
After he'd died, I could not imagine 
that a day would come when I might stand 
beside his grave and not weep, 
but thirty years later, I can: 
though nothing, nothing, nothing 
has been forgotten. Today I remember 
sobbing for my father. Today I remember 
catching nightcrawlers in the rain. 
'3 


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