Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Morning

The creaky knob turns
squeak, squeak, squeak.
And the swelling water wells
pour, pour, pour.
Where I stand it rushes
beat, beat, beat.
Falling with a purpose
down, down, down.
My neck. My back.
Waterfall.
The heat slowly rises
up, up, up.
As I stand in silence
beat, beat, beat.
The soap washes It away.
gone, gone, gone.

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