Aquifer

All day, her memories rake hard 
ground in search of lost gems, 

in search of veins that might 
lead to a heart of ore. Or 

they cluster like raucous birds 
in the morning and sing off-key, 

like children learning a melody 
by rote. She opens the shoe closet,

hunting for a pair to cover her feet
against the cut of stones. There's no map

to tell her how far she should go, how 
deep to dig. How far under layers of rock

and shale does the water table dwell?
Beneath is the aquifer, groundwater.