White face, wide eyes
clenched hands.

Earth churned and sliding.

A fog on the hill,
dissolving hands.

It rattles when I am still.

Like in rooms of strangers.

Ruptured scars of
mud sunken hills,
black water

runs like a death plague
through houses.

And soil washes
into cracks and thickens.

Hell's cavities splitting.

Aftershocks,
subtle dreaming,
passing in my sleep.