Dig Poem by Leslie Philibert
Dig
Dig out your face from under the black cake;
count the trees or break the sleep of stones.
Lost the harmed eyes of earth, voiceless childe,
hidden the northern god of wood and rain.
Look for the wet box of photos, coins and string,
the old Ford and the hands of trunked dried roses.
Look for the broken mask, deep and young,
rootless in the dark leaf mess
Sunday, April 14, 2013
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5/5/2024 5:00:28 PM # 1.0.0.1119
