Dig
Brittany Panzino
2005
I stand in the misty fog.
I look to my left.
He stares back at me--
Solemnly.
He nods at me.
I pick up the rusty shovel.
I break into the earth.
The metal crashes through,
Quickly and persistently.
Always digging,
I look down the misshapen hole.
The fog has now entrapped us.
All I see is him
And the muddy hole.
Deeper,
Deeper,
I go.
My hands begin to ache.
My arms tire.
I want to stop,
But I must find it.
Wait.
Stop.
I see it.
I get down to my knees.
And reach down.
My hand brushes against the neck.
It's heavier than I thought.
My hand clutches it.
I pull its body up.
Yes.
Yes.
We're having clams tonight!
Seaweed and Sandals
Emily Fagan(2011)
Silver Key, Photography
15