(Mike Allen)

by Andy Bowen

In a thousand years they’ll dig us up in Oklahoma.
They’ll sort through our bones
At the bottom of that canyon
With furrowed brows and half cocked chins,
The incarnation of confusion.
They’ll use their shovels and their brooms to undress us,
Finding femur by femur,
Humor by humor,
Jaw by jaw.
The young one will sit up on her knees,
Stare at our tangled rib cages and ask,
“How did they die?”
The old one, standing behind her,
Noticing the geometry of the sockets of our eyes,
Will remove his hat,
Straiten his collar and say,

(Editor’s Note: To submit poetry, prose, short stories, art or other creative writing for Sunday Funday, please write to

Previous Sunday Fundays

Sunday Funday 10/11: ‘Seeing life in all its folly’

Sunday Funday 10/4: Land and time not in my backyard

Sunday Funday 9/27: New definitions, baseball and Short Order Poems

Sunday Funday 9/20: With others ‘losing,’ Trump says, ‘Hadouken!’

Sunday Funday 9/13: Kanye West and a man who smells

Introducing Sunday Funday from Mike Allen