It was a dark and stormy night
Once upon a time
When you pulled me from the dirt
Unformed
Child of clay
Beetle eyes and marsh grass hair
Worry doll.
There was no furnace to fire me
So, lain out for the sun to dry
Watching the roiling clouds
Through the melting rain
I waited
For cracking heat
Or drying wind
Or something.
Lying in grave dirt
The clay child grew
Mud-filled skin
Blistering
A peat bog man
Still damp and newly formed
Still a child of the earth
But stretched
A modern Prometheus
And the rain kept falling.