NaPoWriMo day 1- Listening for Rosie

Listening for Rosie

One ear in the grave

before supper.

Eavesdropping

on the dead, their shrill whirring,

shuffling, rustling.

Static clouds of sweet blackberry songs

discarded under muffled earthworms.

I want to understand.

Every evening under pillowed sunsets

Reaching

for that one soul,

cinnamon-eyed best friend.

Ear pressed to earth-chilled granite.

Voices drift and call

Needled by cliffs, set ablaze on shifting oceans,

my sidekick, my soulmate, lost

in a desperate mess of language.

Buried three months ago—

she’s arrived now.

I cry sugar water

and it feeds the fire ants.

I call out

Voice splintering like china.

But only a tangle of

               Expired melodies

Reverberate from dry soil.

Fists release crumbles of earth

they hadn’t known they were holding.

A sigh unshackled.  

I’ll be back tomorrow.