Friday Morning
You can drown in an inch of water if
You are face down and can’t get up
She thinks
Staring at the spreading puddle
Life is like that
One moment a puddle, the next
Boiling like a lobster in a stock pot
Tail thrashing, cortisol leaking
From dying flesh
She slips the towel from the rack, bends
Wipes the puddle, watching the wetness transfer
Floor to towel to soul and she wonders
Is this enlightenment
7 thoughts on "Friday Morning"
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Nice meditative moment! I like the punch in stanza 2 and then the quiet return to serenity. Enjoyed this.
Love it
That second stanza really grabs me.
Louise has a talent…
strong opening and ending with this inch and puddle of water.
I really like how the poem ends in wondering.
I like the perspective “floor to towel to bowl.” Plus there’s something absurd and comical about drowning facedown in a an inch of water.