dusk creeping into my skin
but i’m not ready to sleep yet.
i can’t be petrified and forget
the smell of petrichor
as i walk through the long grass
in the mornings.
if it were another’s words
there would be no question that i would fight
but the fractal, small measurement of tar
blocking my ability
to raise fists,
forces me to kneel down and weep
as earth is piled over me.