Trap

Vain unaware erudition snares

in rust-blooming bear trap critique of each sensation
that claps around my ankle.

But when stuck I can think--

the sensory-confounding endorphin rush

where the dirt around cracking bones
becomes mounding black loam and the trees

and I can breathe. I pull my stump from the snare

and pour myself into the earth like damp morning spigot leaves.

.