Half way through maggots field
Sam stopped, hard against
An invisible fence. There he felt constraint
Yet with only one step, much like any other
That boundary was obliterated.
I feel this in my thighs,
Swelling, hot. Itching to be released
Like a runner on the blocks,
Anticipating the gun
Where this boundary’s undone
Petrarch took up poetic shackles
Chained hisself into a form
Within those bounds his words shone
So much they became the norm.
With real toads prompt Over Under Through