Boot to shovel, I dig through
Dirt. Piling up beside me:
Disappointment.
Abandonment.
Bitterness.
Having been taken for granted.
Betrayal.

The stench stirred up
Smells like remains.
Mine, I suppose.
But I keep digging.
Under sun and moon.
There is something there,
Underneath it all.

Something of worth.
Something that'll take me
Somewhere I need to be.
Under the dirt, with worms
And dead dinosaurs,
I hope to hear
Iron against something other

Than soft, spineless soil.
Six feet down I surrender and
Emerge; shovel for ladder,  
Covered in sweat and bile.
Nothing gained.
No gold, no treasure
Other than

What's more golden than gold; a
Big enough hole to
Bury my disappointment.
Abandonment.
Bitterness. Having been taken for
Granted, and betrayed.
Then walk. Shovel shouldered.

Whistling.