Today's Word is 'Antecedent'

Check your watch, mine enemy.
The time has come for you and me
to find the path to Gethsemane.

Not that one. The one in my backyard.
It's a pit I dug with a single shard
of glass, and filled with bent playing cards,

a Jenny McCarthy poster,
ladybug corpses, a still-working toaster,
an old bucket from Kenny Rogers' Roasters

full with dried-out breasts and thighs,
a pair of used panties, hollow apple pies,
and a porcelin doll that won't close its eyes.

You've got to get in, too, mine friend,
so I can cover it up, and maybe pretend
I never broke this soil. Maybe you'll blend,

your bones and blood and memory cache,
and somehow mix with this trash
to create a seedling, stinking of ash

and compost steam. I really hope not.
There's a reason I chose this flat plot,
so when asked of atonement, I can point to this spot

and say, "This is where I've buried the past.
Dig it up if you like. It's all there, cast
in hardened mulch to the very last."