Arts + Scene » Poetry

The thing about landslides

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is the way
they expose
the soft belly of dirt,
           the clinging
           ropes of root.

Tree crowns
splayed
against
the new side
of the hill,
face downslope ...
grit in the teeth.

Water-smooth
trails
transect ribs
broken
by the momentum
of rock
and sludged silt,
           deep grains of grief
           and loss.


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