truffle pigs are out in droves today
the sun is hitting the earth at
perfect angles and it's spawning
subterranean ribbed vaults
do they know the earth is dying?
collapsed by impregnable greed,
appointments for initial
impressions with a vine
replaced by malware invoked by
12 inch thick carbon iron composites
do the worms and beetles smell the phosphorus and feel nostalgia
for a passing stranger?
elbows deep in molten lead
is when you realize
blood of concrete
sweat of steel rebar
is easily collapsed by
the spring magnolia
Carolyn's Fingers are squeezing
every inch of agony into a bucket
so big it's garnered space
exploration and nirvana for
plastic
the ocean delivers
crystals and million dollar
counters, but somewhere between
naked circumstance and
the teeth of gears your
chipped nail polish became
the pattern on the ceiling where
external chemicals make love to
half burnt neurons
for hours uninterrupted.
my broken hands want to
tend to your flowers
but the tips of my fingers point
at odd angles. the soil is too
compact and i have no strength
left in my wrists.
Laura Antunes is a poet from Miami, FL, who now lives and works in Georgia.