Katrina Kaye

I dig for you,
not easy to find
but you are there.

I dress in you,
not as warm as I remember.
Your scent changed.

No longer the person I knew,
but you, nonetheless,

and it is enough.

I recognize the
rough of jawline,
the tenderness in
the touch of hands

a piece of you
pacifies the savior
I could not be.

I cannot unearth you.

A little soap and water
rinses dirt from body.

Yet, I continue to
create burrows

digging for all
I cannot
leave buried.

“Dig” is previously published in Mollyhouse (2022).

3 thoughts on “Dig

  1. Speaking of burying, this is an old thing, from the 1980s:


    I must choose I said.
    Choose wisely They advised.
    How? I asked.
    Use your mind someone told me.
    My mind is inadequate I think.
    Use your heart another suggested.
    If I use my heart I said,
    I fear I’ll make the wrong choice.
    Trust your heart another whispered.

    I choose death.
    That is wrong They clamored.
    You are wise said only one.

    I dug a grave
    using only my hands
    jamming sandy clay deep under my nails.

    I took off my ring
    genuine fifty-eight and one third parts gold.
    I kicked off my leather boots
    genuine man-made uppers,
    peeled out of my 501 jeans
    and threw away my fashion-fit shirt
    with the real rhinestone buttons.

    I lay down in that cool hollow of my mother
    pulled a shroud of her earth over my body
    and rested.

    No peace.

    Throwing the dirt off
    I washed in a stream,
    caressing myself with its icy lotion.

    Running to a tall red ponderosa
    I climbed into the sun at the top
    smelled the resin on my hands
    felt breezes on my sweaty skin
    and I heard the rhythmic drumming
    of my heart
    make a wiser choice.

    Liked by 1 person

      • Thanks. I liked the cool breeze on sweaty skin and the resin smell with the drumming heart. I see that in my mind, feel the wind and smell pine resin every time I read it. The fast heart beats remind me of the feeling of a fast hike or a hard climb, and reveling in the recovery afterward.

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s