worn down and heading home

Standard


heaven bade the frogs’ grassy
reeds  gricked to the light amongst
heat,  dry humid my mudded boots sweat
and orderly step impressions into
the wetlands

benzene and ozone and kerosene
the gases
are baking
the flies and
the insects, the
place where the
stagnant water dragonflies
land and walk and impress
you and I, the top of the soil
and the air

forthcoming a path pudge so barely
itself a mark at treeline, I swat
I step I sink I swat, and it’s shade
into me I thank the lord and breath




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