I’d worked at several colleges

and never understood why Hornets?

Why Broncos? Why Bruins?

Only Nazareth’s moles made sense,

the grounds honeycombed with tunnels.

It was possible to never go outside in winter,

and the rumor was that some students got scurvy.

A better rumor was the story of the headless nun.

I can’t repeat it here, but I felt safe inside

the female body of the College.

Sound was brighter or more muffled.

It was possible to disappear if you were

willing to explore. You could snack in the Dug-out,

a semi-psychedelic excavation.

I never found the headwaters or terminus,

but students and faculty flowed through the tunnels

according to the season, and we still remember

the echoes of that arterial space.