Sinkhole Poem by Ezio Olubelleau

Sinkhole

What do you mean
you stole the devil's gourd—
his oath‑bound hoard?

How, son?

Did you touch
what sears the hand,
what poisons the tongue
till the nerves go numb?

Did you think
the devil won't come collecting?
Or that smoke won't follow
you to your own dwelling?

Have you forgotten
your home is but a sinkhole?

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