(a Golden Shovel after the first line of The Cremation of Sam McGee, by Robert Service)
because we are
ghosts digging the strange
small and savage broken things
the forgotten world has ever done,
we all invest our greatest treasures in
a waning moon, an empty mason jar, the
way a cold indigo sky falls just past midnight
; burned by nothing so big and bold as the sun.
I’m hosting Meeting the Bar over at dVerse today, and introducing the Golden Shovel form. The bar opens at 3, Eastern Standard Time. Come play!