I am standing next to
the unsunken earth,
not yet a part of it
though I wonder—

those who have been here
and rooted into the same
unyielding ground,

did they also feel the urge
to seep between eggshell cracks
and become food and fervor,

did they also love death
rotundly as humus loves
the forbidden touch,

sweet and striated
in its own patience.