Wet
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Shed your skin of cotton with dirt and grime complete. Feel the smooth brown marble floor that’s cold against your feet. Turn the metal handle, almost entirely to the left. Feel the frigid arctic water that takes away your breath.
and I am sitting in my bed and
i see the water turn my doorknob,
dissolve the door hinges
and all I can think is that “orange” is
the only word that has ever seemed to rhyme
What is it that I am
But a cloth hung up to dry
In the spring breeze
Quickly, hopefully, before it rains.
And when it rains, I am forgotten,
Drenched again from head to toe,
Gray and full of shade
I can see raindrops playing their game
Not a drop of sunlight on my face
Just wet, wet rain
Though wet
And cold, lovely
Drops from the sky look to
The helpless puddle on the ground
To fall
