satchel,
in her high boots,
carrying
a small broom,
a shovel,
the instruments
she'd dig with.
a fine tooth comb,
and into
the dirt she'd go.
on her knees,
gently prodding
the silt and dirt,
seeking another man's
tooth,
a woman's hair clip,
or bones, not
worried about silver
or gold.
sweeping away
the time
which covers us all
before long.
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