He was shaped by the absence of earth,
day-dried clay scooped away to reveal
the clean smell left when mud failed
to kill him. Stranger's hands drilled
into his dying, lifting him like a bridge
to starlight. His body arched in homage
to fingers and eyes pricking holes
in nighttime, the blackest dirt of all.
Breathe, breathe, said the darkness.
Celebrate.
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