Searching the Dirt

I stare down

At the dirt under my fingernails

Blackening my acrylics,

But there’s a hint of red too.

Crusting my prints,

Do I know who I am?

Feels gritty while rubbing it over my skin,

There’re bugs too!

Muddled all over me.

Where did it come from?

I planted basil yesterday

Or was it this morning?

I held a pebble in my hands,

Or was it a rock?

I found it wedged into the heel of my boot,

Where had I been stepping?

I touched my car window,

Had I been driving somewhere?

My knees looked like I’d been kneeling,

Had I lost something?

I’m not where I thought I’d been,

How did I get here?

I stare at the dirt

Still attached to my hands,

Dirt, what do you have to say for yourself?