There are holes in the ground, filling with water. The holes aren’t deep but they’re spreading like footprints. Ten thousand million billion little lakes. A gingham weave of segments. Facets of an insect’s eye laid flat. It has rained for about six or fifteen years now and the ground is sinking beneath the flood. What can we do when the holes are everywhere and they connect? The world will be 10% smaller and the only thing left to wonder about is where the first new hole will appear.

3 thoughts on “Compression

  1. rick neece

    My next step will suck my shoe off my foot. My shoe will fill with water. I’ll not step again lest I lose the one I’ve left. I’ll stand the rest of my days here, at moments teetering. My hefted foot sock-covered, soaked.

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