Sonnet for the End of Days
The earth is awake
Opens itself all over then leaves the mouths to hang open
like old wood doors and gates that will not shut in their swollen frames
It Venus flytraps - honeys the corners of its lips
The earth is hungry
All that melting has it in a bulking mood
pre-gaming the workout the salts of bodies will electrolyte it
It is not content to feed on the constant churn of slow-moving rock
or the bursting of dead bodies into it
The earth is needing is in heat is feral it cannot even deal right now
The grinding within is the sound of teeth mid-nightmare
is the refusal to smooth itself the refuting of self
Negation and scorched salting
The earth is a death-throe from knocking itself out
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