It’s been a while since we’ve – well,
we did have thrush – a pox
on both our crotches! – see, Ava,
the article spoke of basements being built across the city
they can’t go up,
and so they dig
I think that was the gist but
what intrigued me most was the idea that
once they’d dug – what – three floors down?
the digger was too big to get back out,
cheaper then, it said,
to dig a little grave and bury it there – imagine!
Thousands of diggers entombed across the city…
you must have many questions but I only read the tip
of it,
it struck me though,
and I thought about the summer’s day
a surveyor friend, well, more-than-friend,
let me climb into a digger’s little cab and pull the earth
from deep inside a trench,
a thrill!
Perhaps you’ve also tried,
I made a joke, a good one,
about burying a body, then my phone rang –
my uncle had died.
All those diggers sealed in concrete, underground,
so sad,
and then your email, Ava,
and though it was a Sunday,
that soft buzz is like a siren’s call – I couldn’t help but tap
the icon,
I was in bed.
Did I mention that? Lazy, you might think, but
I’d had this dream…
I was wandering through a house I visit
often, though I’ve never actually been.
The Big House, I call it.
The grand construction of my sleep.
It’s funny,
but I’ve never dreamed of here – this little flat – though
