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Each Red Drop
February 21, 2013
Listless
floating on a cloud
in the waves.
Resting
on a bed of coals
a board of nails.
Wallowing
Wallowing.
Regretting
nights of daylight
and days so dim
and black.
Crippling
squeezing
empty veins.
Searching
for each red drop
to spatter
on a fine white gown
or a gentleman’s kerchief.
Filling lungs
intoxicated
with volcanic ash
and deadly fumes.
Weeping
screeching
till night and day
disappear.
Sweeping up
invisible remains.
© Emma J., Tuck, GA
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