I dig

I dig

I am an archeologist excavating

Brushing away what isn’t

To expose what is

Discovery:

Metaphorical bricks and mortar

The foundation laid by

My mother and father

Their mothers and fathers

And so on

White middle class siding, black

Rooftop shingles above

Contain what is below

A water table of war, famine, alcohol

When trauma rains

The waters rise

Flood the tidy basement red

Shag carpet, tasteful wood paneling

Pretty gas fireplace

Just enough to mildew

There’s mold in the air

The house is boxed tight

Windows closed against

Outsiders looking in

It takes my breath away.