Monday, May 12, 2008


encrusted and mired
by the grime
my heart struggles to beat
my lungs grasp and gasp
for clean air
the sticky slime
impedes me and yet
I cling to it
I want it
It fits me like a glove

I feel the first few drops
and then some more
a fierce torrent
falls gently on my head
the sludge works free 
it begins to slip
and slide
down my face 
off my body
I see clear, clean skin
and watch the oily slick
run in rivulets
making trails in the dirt at my feet
puddles form and worms die
stains are gone
and I
am clean


  1. Who are you? How come I can't write poetry?

  2. nicely done, girl

  3. did you write that? good job!

  4. Clear imagery, weel chosen words, heartfelt emotion. Wow. Grace runs over me and it is beautiful. Your poem is really good, Kay!


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