Centrifuge in Motion


 By Anthony Gonzalez

In the weeds I
Felt the grasses I
Felt the rushes under my
Earthen toes
Sooty feet

I felt the lashes
Of concrete patches
Upon crusted fingertips
In the midday dewy lens
Of christened sapphiric

If forgotten I
Grow molden and I
Shift to dust and suffer
The rust of hinges
In the seasalt air
Molasses thick tears
Of mineral remains
Sticks of carbon
Fretting in
The dirt

Ill begotten I
Give passage to
The sun above though
Powerless to say