Submitted Date 07/05/2019

you smell like the dirt,
crisp & fresh & damp,
& I know that living things
wriggle through you.

but you are more than a body
with fingers & toes & flesh to decay,
you smell like the rain
over an old tree,
rich & green & full
like little caterpillars
who know they only have
to wait to be born new.

you're not dying, you know,
even if it feels that way.

this bigger & mightier & stronger than you
shadow will go,
& all the little
pencil shavings of your heart
will draw out a new space
in your chest,

& you'll find your chrysalis.

& when the sun comes up
all warm,
so will you
with wings unfurled;

& you'll leave your grave
to smell the world.

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