Archaeology

this is the first day digging
among the gleaming bones
a few with the remnant gold
the green and crimson gems
at wrists and ankles   the hint
of splendor in the now gone
leaves that must have been
the size of tigers lolling in
the sun   broken bowls of clay
shards of early sea glass
filtered through the bronze
and ebony of graciousness
down we go to visit graves
parched blood   black sandal
horse’s mane across the out-
skirts of a face once loved
in blissful ignorance of pain
the trace of hand once held
in trust   in pledge   in secret
at the mouth of longing   we
lose the day discovering
the past   to sit at table
in the dust of dark   to wonder
at our finds   and then to fast