“Earthfucker” by Briar Ripley Page

Digging a hole is like sex or sex is like digging a hole. That’s what I’m always saying. I’m saying it to myself, mostly, and I’m saying it to the moist, butter-smooth clay and clotted, worm- filled dirt I’m shoveling. I’m making an orifice in the ground and I’m putting myself inside it. I’m stretching it out, shaping it, making it bigger with my tools, my shovel and pick, my hands and feet. I’m smelling its mossy, dark smell and rubbing my cheek against its edges until my face is smeared brown. The ground is leaving its mark on me, too. “Come in,” it seems to say. “Push farther. More.” And I keep digging, muscles stretched and achey, breath panting in short bursts like a tired, eager dog’s breath. And the clay is strong and firm and damp. I’m getting deeper. Soon my shovel’s sure to hit something new and important. A seam or a spring will open. Insects or water or precious stones will burst forth, hit me in my delighted ribcage, fill my mouth.

Briar Ripley Page (They/he)
Briar Ripley Page is the author of Corrupted Vessels, a surreal southern gothic novella from swallow::tale press, and Body After Body, a self-published erotic dystopian body horror novel. They can be found online at briarripleypage.xyz.