Dig out your face from under the black cake;
count the trees or break the sleep of stones.
Lost the harmed eyes of earth, voiceless childe,
hidden the northern god of wood and rain.
Look for the wet box of photos, coins and string,
the old Ford and the hands of trunked dried roses.
Look for the broken mask, deep and young,
rootless in the dark leaf mess
Leslie Philibert's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Dig by Leslie Philibert )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
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