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Original artwork by Aaron Bo Heimlich

Under the Boulder


Mariah Thompson
Poetry

There was a scorpion on the settlement

our class visited when I was 8 or 9, I don’t remember. 

Travis or Kevin picked up a rock and there it was, dark

and poised for the striking. Fascination spilled 

into pooled horror. I ran. 

 

Yesterday I called my father. Again the line rang and again

he did not pick up.