A sheet of paratroopers falls from the sky
Blanketing the Earth
Piling up in newfound cups along the surface
Until the soil opens up with a carpet of periscope
Sponges
Pulling it all down into the ground
Blowing air out like a deflated tire.
We pump it back up
Straining it through carbonized sun rays
Pour it into a vessel of boiled sand
Down my throat
Pulled into my muscles by a million grasping hands
Send back out to cleanse
Until the sun changes its form again using
Plants like straws
Sweeping water off of
Their leaves
With the flow of the wind.
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