Underground

Summer seeps through the soil,
melting through pebbles and twigs to worm beds below.

Here, blindness is a blessing.

The world is shrouded in black, with nothing to see,
only to feel: the cool clay beneathe your belly and the still September air creeping
through your lungs.
Grass roots tickle your back as you burrow through the ground,
finally reaching the end of the tunnel
and tumbling into a bowl of dirt below.
You become
tangled,
tangled,
tangled
with your neighbor’s bodies.
You know nothing of them, save for the texture of their skin;
they are all the same: silky, slimy, and smoothe.

Here, blindness is a blessing.

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