Wednesday, March 4, 2009


twist me up 

wring me out 

leave your bare hands raw and pink 

spotted flesh

let the droplets of me pucker the soil below

little craters 

of what was 

what is

and what will be


puncture the ground 

with your force

and gravity

let me nourish the sod

let the things you didn't want to say wring me out one last time 

as dampness squirms 

lacing your fingers

you fight back 

don’t let me weave through

wont let me mix 

pleats hold the moisture 

inconceivably permanent

nature evaporates

in its own measure

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