midnight in the cemetery a long time ago
by t. zoEy benally

i did not realize, until just now, that
cemetery was spelled with three "e"-s
grey cemetery dabbed with "e"-s, though my fingers
instinctively gravitate and pounce on the "a"

i probably knew years ago that cemetery
had those "e"-s, teachers threaten to ask
those questions, you know, when you are in their grasp
lined up in rows, much smaller desk than theirs

i don't remember how many of the words
we spoke that night had "e"-s, that night
we parked along grave marker queues
searching moon pacing the night bowl behind us

we talked irrigated corn furrows, thick mud
stuck to our tennis shoes, i am surprised
we kept our shoes and the ground kept
tomato and bell pepper roots, echo exchanges

i do recall that you couldn't convince me
that it was time to go home, that we needed sleep
that there would be other days, other conversations
a small break in the e-s, a small moment of z-s

i knew that it would end, that our conversation
would not exist beyond the dirt car tire trails
that those would be the last energy waves
disrupting air molecules, thumping my eardrums