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.