Amateur Archaeology
Amateur Archeology I am not good with names. But nameless you walked toward me And I knew you, a swelling in the heart, A silence in the heart, the wild wind-blown grass Burning—as the sun falls below the earth— brighter than a bed of lilies struck by snow. Elegy Brigit Pegeen Kelly When we didn’t know any better and would go about bare-foot, or when we were just trying to run away from her we’d take to the edge of the woods and pick through the bushes and play in the old family dump. Digging with a sharp broken rake the short handle eventually scraping my hand raw, I’d draw the red teeth over the gelatinous (but only after rain) dirt and expose the lives of all my relatives who lived here, who shared their water and coffee