Conceived of dirt and rain

In the night
I smell things coming up
out of the ground
and drifting invisible clouds
I find small pleasure
in waking dreams
of wiggling earth-eaters

Yet I’m afraid of the dark
when catching the cold
in my nostrils
and the mist in my chest
—And dirt, heavy in the shadows
of bricks and rain
is with child

-A.J.M.

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