A gray mist engulfs me
Substance without form
Not there—but there
I inhale bitterness
and its parasitic nature
Infiltrates me
My lungs pull it inward
as I gasp for breath
trying to exhale its pungent mold
trying to breathe as it weighs me down
presses against me
from inside
Invading my body
freezing my logic
pulling me into panic
because I can change nothing
It
has no form—
nothing to hold onto
or push away
A gray mist
Copyright 1995 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
No comments:
Post a Comment