and for all the black earth in my nails 

of which bed have I finally earned sleep?

milling and tumbling endlessly 

scraping and planting
in flesh-tolled toil 
machete-pacing a tract in the floor
until it becomes a fissure
and that animal is no more.

smoothed out by life's sandy trials 

a shape named me 

whittled an atom at a time 
to finally fit the slot and turn 
with a we...

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