and again, i’m digging / for the hand
around my neck / for those mud-
blind eyes / for that tasteless thing
to chew / and swallow /

/ for the swallow outside the window
while my father bangs on the bedroom
door / for the bathroom’s stone cold floor /
for that finger in my mouth / for

confession. / i’m digging, again,
for gray soil caked in my fingertips /
for an altar boy’s fingers holding
mine / for the priest’s facsimile words / for

school uniform and tennis shoes
standing in the pulpit / for feet sunken
into the lake’s muddy sand / for gravel
-scarred hands / for

rocks pelted at my back / i’m digging,
parched-tongue, for all-eyes-on-me
for heads-down-thumbs-up for signs
of the cross / for

hands wandering silent / for the hem
of my skirt / for bitten pillow / for bitten
tongue / for hand on mouth / for held breath

for the kneeling, writhing child
at the center of the earth.

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