Eating soil

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My mamma caught me eating soil yesterday,

She wouldn’t have caught me, if

I hadn’t stolen the sieve

From the kitchen,

To separate the rocks from the soil.

I should have let those rocks

Poke my oesophagus.

She patted thrice on my back

And took me in,

Seated me next to the kitchen door

Went in to get a glass of water.

She asked me to drink at least half of it

And wiped the dirt off my face.

She asked me, why I was eating dirt?

I said, you told me that

I was made of soil and

I’ll return to soil one day.

So I was trying, to fasten the process.

Which process? She asked.

I said there was two and

I’m happy with either one.

First is that,

I think when I was made, someone left holes in me

And I wanted the soil to fill me up.

For things ache in me and

I want to feel whole .

And second is that,

If I eat too much soil then

I’ll have more than enough of it in me that,

Earth would want me to return to it soon

And I’ll finally be free.

Mamma then held me close to her chest and said

Baby things don’t work like that,

If they did,

Then I would have sat along with you

And ate soil.

My dear baby things don’t work like that.

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© 14/04/19 The Rendezvous Club

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