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From “Severed Roots”
But the rainy season never came
and the drought never left.
as I scraped back bare soil—
the earth I once remembered—
the remnants of what I started with.
To be that puff that resides opposite,
away from you,
in the world.
You hear the buzzing
and see the yellow jackets
as they sting your feet
you notice the present world,
and toss the bitter apple into the street drain,
bidding the uninvited guest to go away.
My bleached hands
are full of snowflakes I cupped,
that bleed of chemicals they steep.
molten rock to your core,
thrusting you out of a drunken state,