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Jul 2018
The Earth is hungry.

Down by the train tracks,
her smooth skin ripples and buckles
until her lips part.

She swallows the rusty railroad spikes.
She gobbles up the old rubber tire.
She devours the discarded work boot, ankle first.
She slurps up the dusty cheetah-print blanket like a limp noodle.
Something resembling a flashlight sinks into her gaping maw.
She drinks deeply of the shimmering oily water until her skin cracks.

We proudly call things β€œman-made.”
Yet we’re just borrowing them.

Despite our arrogant defiance,
they all return one day
to the Earth.
written: June 6, 2017
revised: July 8, 2018
Left Brained Poet
Written by
Left Brained Poet
241
       Jme Love, Ansley, Lucas and Chiron
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