The Taste of Petrichor

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Day's Eye,
Disconcerted and awoken by the scent of soil,
Last remembers holding liminality close.
Unforeseen,
The hold solidified.
The jaw was asked to move
But the gesture was no more,
The hand was told to grip tighter,
It could only send up daisies.
The attempt to scream aloud was sent under by the spasm.

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