By Lindsey Catanzaro ‘23

Point me to where the plot thickens

Where the crusted outer layer of exposed dirt

hydrates the soil underneath to a cavern

where I will make a hole in the plot

with forking hands, pronged worms

searching for a body deep within

the comfort of the coldness

laid to rest among the rocks

Scrape and kneed the dirt aside

as heaps like warm loaves pile high

seasoned with the dormant seeds of spring

that in time will rise

to the surface


Today they rise with you

uprooted from oblivion

as I cut the hole in your plot

pulling you out

waking you up to the smell of

dampened breaths and

beating chests

The plot fills in

dirt churned before polished stone

in image of a new plot

now the soil and seeds are sown

you’re lifted from your earthen bed

by two hands

as the plot you should have lived

unfolds through them

like the blooming of a closed fist

reaching out

to steady you

Encinitas Garden

Jane Greenip ‘22