The Dig

Photo by Trnava University on Unsplash

I need to dig your soil with my hands,
to excavate the contours of you,
my fingers carefully finding the

roots of your thoughts and the routes of your
undriven disciplines, the secret
subterranean recipes and

sacred burial places of your
beloved dead, silent sonatas
of mystical muscle memory,

the archaeology of every
moment in the movement of your now,
your placid piano birdsong soul,

the intricate treasure box of—the
ancient coins and artifacts of—you.