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Spirewell
I drag a finger through the mud and press the heel of my palm firm into the wetness,
forcing the earth upwards over the plastic surface.
Rivulets run into pools, which run into torrents.
I hear Noah sighing,
The rain is incessant today.
A Black sea rising, while
the Gods surge to claim new lands and ancient pathways submerge forever.
The surface breaks,
Water seeps in and I drown a little;
deep below the sediment is shifting.
2018-2020
A series that misremembers Spirewell, including an aborted birth, a religious submersion, a daily obsession and an untimely death.
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