Open spade cleaves mud,
unwraps under-earth’s treasure-trove —
twisted wires of plant roots
clinging deep,
no repentance, no shame.
I ask when will you break free,
leave us alone, untangle this mess?
You grip on, silent as black,
churning in your own direction,
to your own end, to ours.
Poems from in between 
2 responses to “When digging in my garden”
I think perhaps I should dig in my garden. I have a few things gripping and churning myself and it’s amazing what gardening can do! I like the line, “no repentance, no shame,” subtle but so exactly captures it.
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The sounds in this are wonderful, especially the first stanza. I love those hyphenated words together. I like the balance, too, and how the second follows naturally from the first–how thoughts deepen with the labor.
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