sopping up the dribble,
hands and feet, fretting
over every drop, its stain
on the floor, its presence
made known, my facade
my heart hangs her head.
words graffitied on my walls
time marked in synonyms etched into my floors
the waterline a dado rail
I trudge through the muck
pulling my water-logged bones to an old cracked door.
eyes fixed on the glimmer peaking through the gaps
the mire grabbing at my feet,
strain sucking the air from my lungs.
I close my hand around the knob pulling it
the force of it breaking the door, shards splintering and
flowing out as the waters recede.
(c) 2022 Miriam E. Miles