Excavation

Excavation Marina Greenfeld (bio) I have stood in the cold mudlong enough for the crawdads to crawl my toes. I have steppedout my door into a driveway storm-flooded with minnowsand asked them who they miss from where they used to live.Displacement is a nest I've yet to settle in. Once, I offered you the huskof a petrified bird. The body dried to brittle straw, bone and crushedfeather held in a sarcophagus of clay— a hollowingwe are privileged to witness, but you do not yet trustthat a heart hides in our cavities of dust. I have tried to show you.I have taken a hammer to the cloth-covered geodein the hope you would know no matter what we find inside,the gift is in the shattering. The first time you drove me homeI called to you from the courtyard, wanting to show you the possum guardingmy door with its gargoyle smile, but you hadn't waited, hadn'twondered if there might be more. [End Page 66] Marina Greenfeld Marina Greenfeld is a poet from Southwest Florida and Central North Carolina. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Sonora Review, Meridian, Hayden's Ferry Review, and others.