The Brood

by The Juicer

I turned back and saw her
Below me.
Her breath soaked shallow,
By the rain
Above,
Her hands filthy,
Padded green;
With the mud
And the grass,
Beneath her feet.
Up the hill she stumbled,
To the Finish.

“I dodged everyone!”
She gushed,
“I ran them over!
We are,
Aren’t we?
We are a team!”
Hardly!
“I never said that!”
I mocked –
“I win!”

In a ripping second,
I was
Hurtling down the hill;
Pinned.
“Animal!” I screamed.
Grit flying through my teeth,
Eyes shut tight;
Ears, beating furiously,
Pins and needles,
On my arms.
I fought and
She pressed harder,
Digging in my little chest,
With her little knee.

Tangled all over,
My twisted face:
Lay her muddy hair.
“Stop!
Don’t you bite me!”
But her hands were busy,
Pulling at my ears;
Making roomy saucers,
For the rains to collect in.

“Best friends, forever?”
I pleaded.
My ears were flooded;
I could not see.
“You asked for it!”
She mocked back.
“Yes, I did!” I confessed;
Tiny bubbles were
Bursting in my head.
Laughing;
Along with me.

We kicked hard,
And we were,
Rolling down the hill,
Again –
Scratched and soiled
And moulded,
With the earth and the grass
And the rain;
When we heard –

Cuckoos.

Calling loud and clear;
Swooping down
On us;
At the bottom of the hill;
Leveling,
Everything.

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