author’s note:

Now for something lighter.

But still positively serious.
 

DARK JAR

We need one volunteer
to stick their hand down
into this dark jar—down

deep into this earthernware—
            this opaque vessel—
because
we’ve just got to know
what’s at the bottom.

We’re thinking, perhaps,
a thickly-coiled snake
lies sleeping—but don’t worry
I’m probably wrong—most likely it’s
a furry rabbit that’ll fit
over your hand like a mitten.

So go on—give it a try—be a hero for us—
I believe I hear the faint echo of gold
down there, the luscious lucky sound
of gold striking gold—such a deep bell, a bell
that will tell
the story of the mines,
that will tell
how we were formed—born—

so please, reach down into that urn.

And if you find
you don’t have arm enough
then go ahead—dive in
full-body—don’t worry,
we’ll hold your ankles—

and if you don’t have body enough
we’ll put a rope around your waist
and if we don’t have rope enough
then we’ll pray for you, though
it’s not as if you’ll be in danger—
no one we know has ever died
by dropping down into those depths—
though of course
we’ve never known anyone
who has gone in all the way—

but what could be the harm—?—it’s just a jar
and someone has to go in
because we’re so damn curious—
and that gold—I honestly hear gold—
sounds unlike any gold we’ve ever known,
makes our hearts do something
they’ve never done before,
makes our spirits expand
until they feel like
thick breezy fur on our skin—

the problem is:
that jar is so dark inside—
so dark we can’t see
past its edge—so please, go

go: that must be why
you have come here.

Otherwise,
we wouldn’t ask you.

© 2010, Michael R. Patton
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