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It was her skin in the ground

It was her skin with blood beneath

It was her skin with heat and humid

It was her skin in countless shades of grey

It was her skin in columnar colors of brown

It was her skin in bruised blisters of black

It was her still life, silent life, upon us

It was broken, wrinkled, wrankled

It was unskinned, unwrapped, unwound

She was denuded, time and temperatures beyond

She was defoiled, time and temperatures again

She was demolished, time and trepidations on

She was silent, soiled, soaked in her blood

She was just soil, clay, ground, floor for them

Your soil, your marble, your rocks, your stones

It was her skin, it was her skin breathing her blood

It was her blanket of love, your sliding lands

It was her blood, which you drink as water and shed as tears

Now it is a flood, a flawless flood, fissures in the floors

It is she, erratic, lunatic, frenetic, wearing a fury

Breathing boils, Beaming blisters, Baggage of blasts

She remembers everything, conscious and unconscious

She is beyond skins, blood, veins, vessels, capillaries

It is veins of my earth, it is blood of my earth

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