“lost love excavation”

Meticulously, I categorized
all the razor edges, sharp knife like juts. I scrutinized promises and motives.  I measured the space from the fire to the sleeping area and then to the outer border away from the heat. 
Time lines gridded across the earth and I numbered:  first held hands, first kiss, first time you were late enough that I worried.  So many firsts left to list.

At what moment did I turn into that which I am was the question I most thought to answer.   I obsessed.

My desk top cluttered with possible fits.  I glued together ancient relics and clay pots broken in the last freeze, sections, sheared slices and chunks:  searching for the site where I crushed into dust: the place where I dropped like bone and calcified and fossilized.   The place where I lost myself. 

Some firsts should be forgotten, but science after all is a brutal field.  It doesn’t pity the dirt it moves or the embarrassed skeletons uncovered, sprawled and bared.  
And I had no reason to doubt that the remnants would speak their language, more truth than I probably wanted to know.  (But truth none the less.)

I had not yet lost heart of finding fragments to fabricate a whole:  remnants from the same lost section or era:   records, identifiable.  We were at least breathing; we still had a voice even if only on the phone.  The world was smaller then:  not quite so demanding of those it held. 

I still in that place and time thought history to be a constant:  a tangible to label and hold:   a cup with a tribal marking, or an earring worn by a goddess.  Absolutes were mythological creatures dreamed up with dragons around the night.  All free and wild possibilities still roamed and ruled.  Back in that day, we had a chance.

It was the past when I still thought you might be coming for me, if not with a sword and a steed, at least with duffel bag and a truck.  I still thought that someday, my unearthed grave would point to the undeniable artifact of your love and song for me, for us. 

I still thought that future digs would call us a great find:  an excavation for all those to hope for ever after.  I still thought so much and knew so little.