The day the sinkhole gave way
it was partly cloudy with 73% humidity
it formed on the asphalt
at the mouth of the alley
where the prickly cactus
was promising peek-a-boo yellow blooms
and who knew, right?
The bottom fell out in fathomless delight!
we jumped in anyway
and landed in China
It worked well
we always said we’d dig there
A free trip!
I thought it would end in a desert
not a bamboo forest
not clothed in red holiday fashion
for the New Year and hung bao
we tried writing your name in that elaborate maze of characters
distracted, you leaned more towards the idea of mooncakes and dragons
while I wondered how we would get back
After all, nobody ever heard of digging to America
or maybe they did
but here we were atop the Great Wall
our feet flying in the atmosphere of a new day
marveling at time, distance and assorted greenery
pondering where else
a tunnel could lead
deep through
the spinning earth
About the Creator
Lana Broussard
Lana Broussard writes primarily under the pen name, L.T. Garvin. She writes fiction, poetry, essays, and humor. She is the author of Confessions of a 4th Grade Athlete, Animals Galore, The Snjords, and Dancing with the Sandman.
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