Digging Down Deep

Lightning illuminates the scene in fits and starts.

The world stinks of pine and mud,

Half-frozen rain pelts my face,

The night sky consumes the landscape.

Blisters on my hands burst,

Feeding the ground with blood.

Filthy and soaked and exhausted,

I dig nonetheless.

I need to be done and gone,

Before light,

Before conscience.

Up to my chest in the ground,

Handsfeetearsface numb

With tears and sweat and rain.

Metal head hits wood—

Polished wood—

Wipe the dirt away with my sleeve,

Exchange the shovel for the ax,

Chop at the wood.

Can’t see.
Too many shadows.

Doesn’t matter,

I found it.

Spit,

Spit at where my father’s skull should be.

Heave myself out

And walk away.