Poetry / Archaeology

Remember when we
fought past that mud in the pitch black
set camp, absorbed fire heat into each other’s
flickering faces
slept in parallel
and woke to a new, foreign, sunlit world?

Remember when we explored
the old church graveyard
the decaying lichen-painted stones
bending toward the hill
erosion threatening to bare forgotten bones?

Remember wondering if
archaeologists, uncovering an
eternally sleeping couple
could confuse his tibia for hers,
her femur for his?

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