Gloria said to dig below
So she does, for the millionth time, as she’s told to
The sand there is hot red blood of course but powder
Her mother’s blood perhaps? Old blood? Dried blood?
Thoughts swarm and meander up over, behind the horizon
There is nothing but mother’s blood
She squints towards the sun
and thinks of the crows feet far too late to stop them
The dogs trots off
With a dead thing?
Just green fronds
The last living thing in this godforsaken etcetera
But Gloria said dig down below.