Shock and Fresh Flowers

It was a shakedown in a
“You didn’t make the team”
sort of way where
the mud soaks your shoes
but they’re calling for
sunny skies just after
the disaster to make up
for lost time, forgotten ground.

It must be easy to get
away when your life’s
work teeters above and below
the surface, slithering in
and out of earth’s womb
like a blind worm
I accidentally squish
with my shoe.

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