There's no harder job
than digging a hole.
Earth relenting.
Pushing back against
your spade.
Every shovel load
straining to get back
in that hole
as daggers of sun
slice the back
of your neck.
Muscles tense,
strain,
betray the body.
The hole widens
creating the imperfect
relief of a hill
along side it.
And just when
you've broken.
When you want
to lay down in
that devilish hole of yours.
You have to fill it.
2 comments:
This is a bit of a stinker. I've been tapped for ideas and time this week. I may be able ro salvage it.
"Every shovel load / straining to get back / in that hole / as daggers of sun / slice the back / of your neck." Ugh...this is very much felt by anyone who has literally dug a hole. This is a difficult moment to capture without getting too wordy: I think you've managed it in spades. Doesn't smell like a stinker to me. Hope you manage your week's work, bud. Let me know when you have time for lunch or coffee.
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