how long?

digging through the boxes
the bookshelves
the piles of paper,
fort like,
built up around you,
marking your territory,
with all the important things
you were always afraid to store
out of view
there was nothing from me
nothing from you
about anything
that wasn't work
or money
how long had you lived without love?

digging

deep
down
six feet
in the cold dark earth
the body of my father
lays
eyes forever closed
hands cold
fingernails growing

and i want to dig in the earth this spring
this california spring turning fast into summer
this good green earth browning fast
on all the dried out edges
of not enough rain

and i have not, yet
save for the accidental planting
with my baby girl
as we put her various pea plants
in pots
and watered
what did not sprout
in time for the science fair

but the bulbs we pushed into the ground
are cutting open the earth with their green swords
so anxious they are to grow tall
to grow open

and i am encouraged by their appearance
above the ground
i am encouraged by their sentry promise
six inches from each other in a long straight line
of warning
and i look to them, hoping
i look to them, hoping

and i remember when they sprout
my sister will come
and she'll be damn gladiola to see me
and together, maybe
i'll be brave enough
to again dig in this burial ground