Pressed apple child
Disgusted, enchanted
The city clogged us in, gurgled and choked up
in the middle of the room
Infant, in-fact
in the way
Get out of the way
Stuck with your hands
Blue nails, veins, a scar on your thumb

Holding onto the damp earth
Let it be
Kneel for the King and let him weep by you
Sit up, sip, breathe