Beyond the spelunker’s last chossy handfast,
          Past the furthest
     Unwind of a rescuer’s line,

A boy as limber and scabbed as I
          Got wedged tight
     In a pinch of granite.

I have finger-and-toed that hole, forward
          Inch by inch, cheek
     By rock, have jackknifed my hipsockets

Over the jut that caught him up, have fumbled
          Fingerblind
     For an edge, an elbow for leverage,

A pull and then through. What I found down
          In that hot dark
     I’ve forgotten. The ground

Is an oubliette wherein unechoed, dull,
          The tongue unsings
     Its hungers, and the human

Push to prove itself runs out against
          The terminal
     Wall, breathless and bent small.

Whatever the boy found belongs now
          To cement and trowel.
     They sealed the cave when he died.