A transparent cloud

Covered the cat-eyed moon

As I began to dig my hole

Hoping to bypass

Any large rocks

Or weaving tree roots.

Some may call it a shallow grave,

But I continue to dig

Being careful

In case I find a lost air pocket

Which has moved

Through the layered earth.

Some may call it maddening

To go in search of such thing,

But what do they know

It very well could exist!

I am tired of breathing

The same air

I breathed last week.

It still clings to my lungs

Making them swell

With exhaustion.

I cough

Expecting to see blood,

But continue digging

Being steady with each thrust.

I must have dug about two feet

At least two feet by now,

And what would my wife think

If she would see me

Out here in my underwear

Throwing dirt

Into the stagnate air.

I know what my kids would say:

Hey dad,

You taking a trip to China?

When you get there

Don’t forget to send

Us a postcard!

I gotta keep going -

Keep moving,

Keep digging,

And what would the neighbors think

If they would see me

Out here excavating

For fresh air

In their front yard?