Some Girls Walk into the Country They're From.
"Girl B has brought a giant sheet with her.
While everyone else is busy crying,
only girl B is quietly at work digging with her bare hands,
gathering.
From here, it looks like dirt, but from beneath the pile,
from underneath the stuff that looks like dirt,
it is the stuff that is getting away.
That is what separates the stuff that
looks like dirt from the stuff that also looks like dirt
but is, in fact, the stuff that is getting away, fundamentally
altering the nature of its existence,
the stuff that manages to bunch up and cling
to the loose gathering of her fingers,
the stuff that doesn't fall through, not before holding on
just long enough to land somewhere
within the bounds of the giant sheet.
I said giant, but really, it is not that big,
only big enough for one, regular-sized adult to sit on.
But today, there is no sitting on that sheet.
That space is reserved for some very important dirt,
I tell you.
It is the dirt that is going, going with girl B."