Poetry and Photography by Stephanie Schubert

an archaeologist in love

(I wish I was bottomless 

so everything crashing into me would feel weightless.

I turn love into bitterness

resentment

that is my superpower

my alchemy)

I’ve found treasures tucked away 

eroded through years of layers upon layers

upon layers

buried meticulously

and when a piece shines through (or I feel it

in my bones)

I pick and prod
set it free

study it

nurture it

name it
become its friend.

Perhaps some treasures are too powerful to be unearthed

some are so bright and blinding 

they drive their burier mad

others do not want to befriend their treasure

they find it ugly, even

call it junk.

“Throw it away,

pretend you didn’t see that”

They curse their treasure

it curses them back

and so begins the dance for dominance.

Of course, when you put it that way

it’s my fault isn’t it?

I was the one who set it free

and I’m sorry

for digging

for prodding

for prying

for naming that which wasn’t mine.

You see, 

I never imagined you’d hate anything which came 

from the depths that you so loudly flaunted 

in your poetry and prose.

Perhaps some treasures are too heavy
too blinding

too earth-shattering 

and unearthing them seems nonsensical 

foolish, even

but I am an archaeologist in love

I cannot help but dig and dig and dig 

until all that was buried 

is brought forth to the light

which it came from.