Where They Came From

Potholes

It started small.

Or I thought so,

This is how everything does.

The annoying

Swerve of your car,

If you weren’t looking

It ate your wheel

And left you with angry thump.

But as the ice refroze and thawed

The commute became unbearable

It began.

It got bigger and bigger

And if you stopped to see

Got low on your hands on your knees

It’d be blue in the middle.

Bright blue.

And the next time, bigger

It’d be green, the purple, 

The sinner

Than gold until the tips of a finger

Reached out to the sky

Until the potholes gurgled with gravel

And out from the hole they surged

With metal faces, terrific smiles

And singing a song,

That burdened the night and the

Noon long

It grew louder and louder as

More of them shout out,

As more of them slunk into our shadows,

We began to wither.

The tyranny, the exhausted slither

The song seeped into our skin,

Into our hearts.

Into our thoughts

Until all we wanted, 

All we were hungry for 

Was rest.

Until we dragged ourselves

Shaking and sore

And crawled back

Into the gold, toes first

Into the world underneath the asphalt,

Into the world they came from.