I Cannot be Trapped Under Dirt and Leaves by Mullen Metcalf

Do notdrive over my fingers withdirt on your shoes.At least wipe your feet first,or dig out the old grimy slippers from theback pocket of your winter coat.You are a deer carcass,left for rot on the side of I-95bubbling and popping and sizzling.(You are nothing to me)But you are the red-hot belly of the deer,fur hard like grass,grass hard like fur, andI burn up inside.I am an iron left face-downon a silky blue tie, andgrilled cheesein the garbage served hot, andwell done with a garnishof char and ash, and dust too.(Get out of my way)I am a grease fire and you cover me with waterinstead of cloth. Photo by Shelby Deeter on Unsplash