skin of my skin

My nails have become
one with the dirt, black-rimmed and unsociable,
although I can not
recall what I dig for
with any certainty.
It is a fine thing to
commune with the dirt.
Wealthy and sinuous I feel,
but these aren't the words.
The loam doesn't afford
one time for definition,
so I claw on.
I'd like to find her bones
and some remonstrance.