Civilization
Schliemann dug through seven layers
to reach Troy, one culture atop the other.
A dig in our yard harvests horseshoes, nails,
remnants of the Remount Stables down the road,
where the army bred cavalry horses.
Later, equine vets began their practice
from what is now our crowded garage,
the collected manure a beautiful source
for gardens. Like the vets and the cavalry,
my father started his projects in a garage—
telescope, sailboat, house, toy horse for the kids
in Junior Achievement to learn free enterprise.
In his last hours, when I bent over him
to make out the words in his first language,
Ich sterbe. I pretended not hear. His journals,
records of success, molder in the garage,
buried under cardboard, where Vinnie,
the neighbor cat, sleeps in his rightful place.
Gaby Bedetti teaches at Eastern Kentucky University. While a Bates College student, she took the Greyhound to hear Allen Ginsburg read his poems in Augusta.