Hills of Eternity

Hills of Eternity

Tonight I brought potato chips and blueberries

on my walk to the park, a long-ago cemetery.

Lamps barely lit paved walkways,

leaving the hills of grass as dark as my room

when a small, dying candle burns in a faraway corner.

There was a man standing motionless

halfway up the hill, on a patch of dirt.

When the lamps flickered for a moment

I watched him dig with his hands into the earth,

and disappear.

As I turned to leave, he emerged

with a body, and laid it

on the grass. He covered its ear

with his mouth; I heard a noise

like steam screaming out of a vessel

until he twisted its head to look at me.

Trembling, I looked into

my own, dead eyes,

and suddenly I remembered

that long,

forgotten dream.