Dig deep

the archaeologist downed her tools
I’ve had enough, said she
of living in the past
of grimacing skulls and broken bones
and irregular coins I cannot spend

Please, someone
whisk me away in some Pumpkin convertible
and pamper these tired, prehistoric feet
with contemporary kisses and crystal slippers

Oh! I want to feel champagne bubbles bursting upon these once-soft lips
not chipped and skuzzy mugs full of warm, over-stewed tea
I’ve done my time
on the front line
and now I want some time for me

to unravel
to laugh and cry myself to sleep
to be soothed by the angels of the darkness and the deep

to wake curled
and uncurling
upon the belly of my Beloved