Bury your seeds deep after you breath out some brief sigh of relief. Don’t do anything but give the salted streams, unbidden, given. Turn this small patch of land over and over again and bury another seed. And just in case the dirt crawls to you, empty-handed, find another patch of land to bury things in until your hands, too, are empty. And then you might as well start burying everything else. Give your tears to the land, (you’ll shed them anyway) give up your hope, finally, bury that beam deep beneath the spiky things (they’re spilling from your tongue) give the soil every dream you’ve ever had (they lacked substance anyway) and perfect your self-made fertilizer. And once everything you can give has been taken by the earth, maybe then will someone pass by, stepping on your dirt-body, and comment on the fruit coming in. almost ripe for picking.
By Didi Hoyt