we lived in innocence among the dead

going in and out of the graves

a finger bone often stuffed inside a pocket

the deceased did not care so nor did we

dirt rocks bones ash were all

objects for wondrous endless play

only as we became older did we learn

that rain and tears are the same

and that a skeletal grin is a fearsome thing

(in my dreams I still run with storms

and toss a skull into the sky)