Inconsolable

My disgust goes deep as the soft ground

That suck on and bog down passersby.

It marks my face like grooves of spinning tires 

Clawing their way out of the sunken surface.

Even the grass has stopped in their tracks

And laid my emotions bald. When it rains, 

I sink, ankle-deep, into the puddles that reflect 

The wobbly sky of stars, and am paralysed.

I probe the depths of these distended feelings, 

Only to find strange potholes and caverns

That litter the broken spine of the ground.

The only way out is on all fours, teeth to earth, a splayed roadkill making its ungraceful exit.