Ohio Caverns
We form a queue around a small
million-year-old blossom,
are captivated
by dripping peaks
of creeping continuum.
Rainbow striations
in bezels of stillness,
then the power fails.
A pitch black of nothing
quashes carriage and mien.
Minds shrink like dark stars,
then the yellow flicker
of a generator hums us back.
Nervous grins, holiday shorts,
maybe some a little soiled,
floppy hats.
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