roll of the dirt,
click of the tongue—
metal clanks at the roots.
digging is done;
fatigue caked to boots.
scent of rest lingers
down in the hollow,
splinters in fingers.
lay frozen under sky;
night clouds open their wounds,
bleeding on the dry
that vanished too soon.
without a casket in a flood,
unmoving in treacle mud.
Dec 3, 2025
Dec 3, 2025 at 8:46 AM UTC
roll of the dirt,
click of the tongue—
metal clanks at the roots.
digging is done;
fatigue caked to boots.
scent of rest lingers
down in the hollow,
splinters in fingers.
lay frozen under sky;
night clouds open their wounds,
bleeding on the dry
that vanished too soon.
without a casket in a flood,
unmoving in treacle mud.
