The dirt is destroyed from swaying years of care and neglect.

A layer of new sod with that green wire that doesn’t biodegrade

followed by no watering, no tending, no rinsing. Dust. Repeat.

But I dig down. First with the tiny shovel. Then the big one.

Then I pickaxe through the layers of my backyard Napolean,

Reading the stories of the owner’s past.

One tried roses.

One loved jacaranda trees.

One settled for ficuses.

Still I dig, to add to the tale –

Below the petunia,

I’ll plant the bones of my husband.