I climbed out that day,
out of the grave - stood upright
next to its border,
beside the tombstone
weathered and withered, ground down
by the lightning storm
that enflamed my lines,
realigned my spines and shot
its charge down center
as I sieved through mud
to find the cell rapidly
breaking its last light.
I have no idea
why the storm god pokes at me
again and again.
March 12, 2014 7:08 PM
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.