DIGGING FOR WORDS
Peeking out from the dirt
at the stump’s base, that’s where I found them,
black on white. I was throwing corn
to the squirrels. I dug with a stick,
disturbing the earthworms. One crawled
into the decaying wood.
Did someone write a letter–love or Dear John–
only to bury it? The magnetic words and letters
kept coming along with a penny and a blue
plastic dolphin. I cleaned it, gave it to Juanita,
she has one on her business card. The penny,
I tossed into the spare change mug.
Pieces were mudded together or joined
north to south. Spilled out of my hand
and into a jar from the recycle bin. Rinsed
them three times, wiped the words dry,
stuck them on the cookie pan.
After sorting them into categories-
body parts, verbs, single letters-
I let them sit for a week. I didn’t
write a note or create strange lines.
I put them in a baggie,
started this poem.
