An Excavation
If I had not seen the sulfur-yellow back-hoe
roll past my window;
far, far too early this morning;
I would have assumed the jack-hammer;
pounding in my head;
was the product of a usual night;
Jack Daniels on a payday,
a bottle - or two, of cheap tequila on all others.
I stagger painfully to the window
observing the infernal machine scraping;
clawing, scraping away layer by layer.
Digging up the past; as earnestly
as I spend every lonely night trying to bury it.
No jack-hammers are required
to excavate my nasty piece of real estate.
No sir, leave it be,
and things rise to the surface;
all by themselves.
If you let them.
This or That, Vol 4 Poetry Contest "An Excavation"
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Date wrote: 02-July-2021
Copyright © Terry Miller | Year Posted 2021
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