Saturday, April 30, 2016

The ground

The ground heals me. The pebbles talk
to my feet, don't ignore us! The broken
glass keeps me awake, reminding.
I remember rougher ground, walk-
ing on sharper pebbles. The unspoken
brilliance of the jeweled blood left by
the broken glass. The old ground, grinding
the pebbles slowly to round, binding

my feet to dance over broken glass, no reason why.

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