Undramatic, this cave, like many
      moldy clay walls
      too young for details

      But the challenge!
      a chamber
      smaller than a phone booth
      through a hole off the main cavern

      Mark squeezed in first, his chest too muscled
      he had to exhale to fit

      I was next, folding my lank

      Dave and Tom last, each gut
      popping cork through the opening

      into a bubble the size of a crib
      we lay, four of us side by side on our backs

      calcite coffin

      the ceiling an inch from our nose
      we turned off our lamps and listened

      absorbed in void

      We wondered aloud should soft limestone give
      our grave would never be found

      Privately, one or more prayed
      for that.  So simple, this darkness

   Mike Dayoub           
   Atlanta, GA