And the Earth -
always, the smell of the Earth haunted his dreams.
He always woke lost to the scent of pungent pines and vegetation,
or soaking soil with the dust after rain drifting away from him
like a night-companion that knew nothing but
morning-after abandonment.

He couldn’t shake those nights -
they were a disease that plagued him, tauntingly,
letting him function in the day but still
keeping phantom hands across his heart.