There’s somewhere deep 

that I must go, 

something I must sow. 

On the Great Lake Michigan?

Maybe so. 

In a pile of Autumn leaves

down below? 

To the Sun? The Moon?

Do I even know?

To the center of Earth?

I’d need a hoe. 

Or is it you, or yo?

I wish I could know. 

It’s beyond my control. 

Will you penetrate my body? 

Mind? Soul?

Are you my Beau?

You are just a man, 

with nowhere to go. 

I think about you though. 

Can we grow? 

Will you care for my soul? 

I just don’t know. 

Why you? Why now?

What is your goal?

Is this your best show? 

What is your mysterious role,

in my quiet life that’s so slow. 

I really want to know. 

Am I the hole or the hoe?

There is something deep 

I’m compelled to grow. 

But what to plant? 

And what to sow?

Like dogs, we dig a shallow hole,

to hide the bones from our bowl. 

But the hole lets in a brilliant light, 

and heirloom seeds that excite! 

I wonder…will we make love tonight? 

To what height?

How am I on earth to know?

How do love makers even go?

Can you make my seeds grow? 

Will your roots run deep within?

Or will they cling to my skin?

Will spring showers bring us creative and awesome powers?

Will colorful flowers bloom,

when our juices swoon?

Will bees come and tickle our skin?

Will they sting or make honey 

to sweet sounds of the violin?

How deep can we go?

I truly don’t know.  

But I hope you can see 

that I am able to grow.

When you are ready for me 

to touch your soul, 

just kiss me hard, 

and let me flow. 

Deeper, I will go. 


—Wendy Williamson

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