Giants to Feast


Fell upon a sixteen-pound cookie baked by Eleanor Roosevelt,
then tumbled into the mine shaft connecting Florida to Wyoming.

Made a right turn at wherever the wild prairies blew ragweed,
but had to double back away from the prairie dogs.

Ran through a tunnel built for giants to feast within,
realized those giants were hungry for supper,
leapt out of my skin and bled to death.

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