excavation (a work in progress)

by Gord Sellar

found an arrow-
head today; then
a tent-ring; and then
unspeakable history, the three spinning
hands across the numbered face:
angles, yawning a
slow promise


trash is the thing that
surrounds quietly
when we sit occupied with
other things.

the silent stacks of
stained plates, watermarked
mugs, the signs
that we walked here;
lived, even.

careful not
to disturb
what lies in earth

cracked screens, torn pages,
freezers strapped shut by
dark, rich humus of
history, filled with
desiccated turkeys, an
unwashed flask tucked behind
the tv.

these later people
cannot believe the way
we lived.

– Saskatoon, 1997

February 8, 2012

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