growing a lawn 
after gina olson 

before grass, there was mud.
thick and viscous. a dried scab
we rode our bikes through.
the house is sinking slowly into the earth.
one day we will all return to our homes
& find them swallowed. 
i live in preparation for many disasters
& it is surprisingly boring. 
there is nothing to do ever 
unless you have money.
build a bunker out of mud. 
i used to tear out handfuls of grass to keep my company
when i was small & wandering.
i paint with mud on the back of my hand. 
sleeping in the mud
we will become grass or bugs.
i sometimes look at crowds of people
& i only see grass. the city is lush 
with shoes. everything is a lawn. 
the summer before i left for college 
i forced myself to read kafka's metamophosis. 
i was somehow completely unaware
the man would turn into a bug.
i thought it was a metaphor (the kind that ends)
& i waited & waited until i finally accepted 
he really became one. antennae quivering,
sometimes i wake up as a bug 
but it is less important than the metamophosis.
planting grass is such an ordeal.
we tried several times before it would take.
setting up sprinklers, we stood & watched
them pacing day in & day out 
until finally the blades started to grow.
they were so afraid of being judged. 
i emerge from the sheets like that.
one single blade of grass. fresh from the mud.
the yard lay drenched in water. 
the flood is coming.
the grass will grow backgrounds into 
the soil. the house will already be gone 
& everyone but me will have no idea what to do.
me, i have a plan. i am going to 
save myself. i am going to wake up
& dig myself free of a substance. 
i will wake up as many bugs
as i need to. beetle & gnat & spider.
i will be whatever crawling is needed to get away.
find myself a nice new lawn to hide in
until the houses bloom blue-doored 
& ringing. i an homesick for my dream houses. 
i am tearing a door off its hinges
to watch it grow back like a wing.
our basement has muddy floors. 
i used to love to go down there 
when no one was home 
& leave my hand prints.