The life of caves is caught in the traps

static, blind

save when raindrops combine in driven whispers

to flush out secrets

on the way to sweet Elysium.

 

The toothless mouths and scoured gullets

slip into themselves

reflective, deceptive

indifferent to curious life in the traps.

 

They are their own refuge

hemmed in with cold shoulders, their

armadillo roofs pressing saline spines

into the leached confines

 

'til on a whim, matrimonial maidens

emerge from damp shadows

present a show of nymphs, naiads

to tempt the old rock in water sport.

 

Out on the windswept scalp, life continues

cliffs are scaled, oxygen wasted

 

not here

 

where conservation reigns

in the architecture of drains.