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.

Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children.

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