thrusting hammered metal
with your heel,
a crack opens
the earth opens
ready for new life to be turned into it.
throw heapfuls over your shoulder
without looking back.
watch as the void waits
wanting missing dirt to be
with your plantings.
and when the hole is big enough
just for you,
swing your feet over the edge and let them dangle.
the earth craves impact,
waits patiently for you to land on its land.
accepts vodka instead of water and
accepts smoke that coats the soil in ash.
mistakes pills for seeds and spores
and through the fog
still waits for your feet
to land on its land
but you get tired of earth this needy
when you see green in the distance.
you walk away,
occasionally come back
to spit on the dirt
and ask it to sprout for you,
before your eyes.