I am here in Black Earth
trapped between centuries
of history – my story and yours.
The weight of the past drags
me always deeper down.
The present is a thick, brown
compression of heavy, once-
turned earth, layer upon
deep layer.
Here I am in Black Earth,
crushed by the impacted
load of now – your now and mine.
The stench fills my nostrils
and my hand claws a bone dry
mouth to stop the acrid Earth
from choking up the only
means I have to tell you –
I am here
before you stamp over my grave
in your thick soled boots
searching for history – my secrets,
yours? – with your metal detector.
But you, poor, deaf fool, with
the rush of wind in your ears,
that I, deep in Black Earth
have long forgotten, pass me by
unheeding.