digging in,
the way your teeth crawl.
and latch onto my heart
or my hipbone, when we
do our thing. digging in,
like the first shovel into
the earth when burying
someone you love. you
remember how fresh
the soil is, and you think
it's ironic and somewhat
painful. don't think.
don't think. digging in,
and you whisper in my ear
like you're telling me something
no one else knows while you're
having your way with me, or I'm
doing something to you. don't
think. don't think. forget digging,
forget the hipbone, forget all
of your common denominators.
don't think. don't think. and
you won't.
digging in.
digging into fresh soil
like there's something
worth finding.