TRAGIC Poem: Maybe I’ve Lost My Mind, by Brooke Doom

At the end of 2nd Street,
there is an old river that stretches
north along the weeds.
Packed, wet, delicious soil
along the edges- squirming
and sticky fistfuls in the ground.
White granules of fertilizer,
larva…
Something cool against my
skin.

Author: poetryfest

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