Poems for the Dumb

BAIT That rock you looked under. That hole you dug up. been there squirming all along waiting, anticipating for some light or a breeze to breathe. Time never existed in this nocturnal nightmare. The only dream that was dreamt was the breeze and the stank breath. Get me out of here. There are marsupials here that want to kill me. Just take half of me and leave the rest. I’ll regrow, I’ll detach. Take me up under this rock. Take me out of this hole. Give me hooks. Give me sparrows. Anything is better than this underground existence. Let my other half that told me that rocks could talk sleep in burlap sacks, and wrote angry letters on his day off emerge through the topsoil. The temps are always laughing while they pit pocket a shadow. Why have they given me a name that sounds like a foreign disease. I want to love third grade teachers who cry because I am dry. I want to develop a handicap that gives me a reason to be insane. Never mind the cutoff hour. Never mind the delicate rose that ages. This magnet could only feel warm in the depths of hell. Hell is a gravel road with hot rocks and broken glass. I believe to be a soft pelt. The ditches have their own story.