I pulled a card, again and again,
it was death
Those roly pollies and spiders
and wetness and worms
and beetles and pungent scent
of the tearful ground that
fascinated me.
I ran around barefoot without you,
and I was happy
The other side didn’t matter
And then, turn after turn,
you wedged yourself in, and became
part of the routine
A ritual
Breathtaking
Sleepless
So focused, so blinded
Until one hot sunny day
that outdoor rug had weathered,
like your hair
Like your coarse skin,
it lost its glamour
it needed to go.
So I began to peel it off the cold concrete,
ever so slowly,
because despite knowing what I’d uncover in the shadow,
I didn’t really want to see it
Those roly pollies and spiders
and wetness and worms
and beetles and pungent scent
of the fearful ground that
terrified me.
But they, too, needed to see the light
