Digging up Mudbricks to Take to the Farm

Sebakh is the past,
Poets sebakhin,
Poems sebakh findings,

The fertilizer
Of the past applied
To desperate farms

The annual silts
Don’t reach anymore.
Tells are then the world

Beyond sebakhin,
Beyond all humans,
Great heaps of the past

Rich with nitrogen
For the sebakhin.
What you discover

You may destroy. What
You do not destroy
In uncovering

You may surrender
To the readerly
Authorities. They

Must decide if you
Did more harm than good.
You need to grow things.