Halloween air in June

My hand breaks the surface and    
parts the night-grass    
on my grave.    
   
My eyes roll back  
as wind kisses my fingertips    
and I revel in the taste of  
fecund soil in my mouth.    
The ground undulates    
as if the very earth    
were gravid
with me  
 
something happened.    
 
and I tear through the    
universe’s placenta    
with my dirty nails,    
feral and filthy  
dusky and filled    
with living night,  
   
My chest heaves against    
the white linen dress    
stained with the incidental    
evisceration    
and I find myself,    
head thrown back,    
laughing    
unapologetically on the side    
of death gods    
and sex demons,    
   
I survey this old burial ground.    
The place where the ground soured    
and we still believe,    
but not really    
   
something happened.    
 
the planets crossed somewhere    
or some random piece of the    
Mayan calendar made up for its tardiness  
or maybe the fates used my thread for macramé    
   
I don’t know.    
   
I woke up    
under the earth    
just    
fucking now    
   
and I clawed out    
to howl at the moon.    
just to hear my own mad    
cackling jack-jawed bullshit    
sing through haunted trees    
just so I can feel the crunch  
of decapodal fossils    
in my molars    
as I gaze around this world    
with feline stretches and    
sloe-eyed needs    
 
something happened.    
 
I burst from the grave    
not fallen    
but arisen    
   
Freed from the corsets    
that bound me  
in that prim burial dress,    
I’m able to expand    
my diaphragm    
fully    
   
I inhale.    
Fingers twitch.    
Neck creaks.    
   
and I smile.    
   
and smile    
   
and    
   
smile.    
   
   
I am something.