my knees are scratched and submerged in tall grasses and free soil.
sweat beads in every pore as the sun beats upon my back,
which is aching for bending at truly odd angles,
and dirt is smudged unattractively across my brow,
and my nail-beds are screaming in agony
for pressing them too firmly into loose, wet soil
for pinching them too tightly around unwanted weeds.

as my flip-flopped foot punches the shovelhead into the soil, I heave a sigh
and as I bend to suffocate the mums in a downpour of dirt
I notice that I accidentally sliced
an earthworm in half
or perhaps carelessly diced him at the three-quarter mark
while digging around with the spade.

but I have faith that you will live, earthworm.
after all, worms have five hearts
and I can see that
you’re a fighter.
you can do it.

sorry I chopped you in two.