Into the Earth
In my mind I draw a square
in the very center of the garden
From there I dig into the earth
using the seasoned spade
usually reserved for plantings
The hole slowly turns into a cube
as three mounds resemble
Egyptian resting places
Further down the soil
becomes hard and cold
the clay malleable enough
to mold eternal companions
Satisfied the opening
is mathematically sound
I hold the spade at my side
sweat falling off my forehead
silently instructing the child
to bring forth her loved one
to the newly built altar
november, two thousand eleven
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved
So what did you bury?
I didn’t bury anything in the garden except for tulip bulbs….
you were preparing the ground for your poems.