curbed like an excess. No more
wagging in the shallows, it’s plunged
in a tunnel to the underworld where
they stump in a strange dialect.
Eat your heart out, it might say. Eat
your pilaf, your side vegetable
and the pox upon your crops.
It might say anything, were it not
lounging around a lower hemisphere.
Laid back at some southern spa, mud-
bathing, overdosing on motionlessness.
Enjoy the quiet. Fleshy puddle, pond
pummeled by too much rain. Make pretty
like a lake today: hold yourself in.
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