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Drenched Words and Dry Hearts
August 9, 2011
I screech the incantation into the blowing wind
And the utterance flows merrily in the sweeping breeze
Until not a single victim in its path is left unpinned
Of the hallow curse.
As it floats along it rains its soggy lines,
Dropping doubt like death bombs.
And, stupidly defenseless, you’re drenched with it.
Dripping, can you even breathe?
It radiates out and spreads its slime.
This is not the truth,
But you’re infected with the lie.
© Dat L., Worcester, MA
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