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).