Wet


Eyes to clavicle, a pool

forms like a natural disaster.

It runs, no sound, wax

that hardens, no thought.

Skin swells, reddens

like a slap, now sound.

A baseball bat cracks,

a mad man laughs.

Eyelids, careful, just two

together, deal with salt, salt.

What thirst is created

when drops find the tongue?

No water, blue against

the wall, color quiet.

She never leaves,

she never uses assets.

Gray, the tea done, the cup

pieced back together.

Hands shaky, dry so that

the ring slips, a child’s swing,

constant motion, she never

jumps.

#SarahLilius #poetry