to explain to you who cannot see,

the cloy, the quantity of water, tasks, and other

hurts, that fit into  a day. the moment

your feet slide into mud, with one word.

heard , read, imagined, the sentence dives and plays

whole, yet as days move on, flotation occurs,

buoys,  slowly we face back to sea , swim on.

either that or drown.

sbm.

I watch as a ****** of crows fly over
Cawing loudly
Deafening in their wake
Landing upon a barren tree
Giving the illusion of life
I stare pointedly at this ******
Then, they quiet
A fog of silence
Loud and unrelenting
No cars to be heard
Insects hushed
The only sound is the beating of my heart
They move as one
Heads turning simultaneously
Eyes staring back
Only one opens its maw
A screech of terror comes out
They are warning me
Of what, I do not know
In the screech I do understand
A trial is set before me
One I must withstand

My classmate Martha walked our school’s
halls for thirteen years, few students

talked to her because she drooled,
walked like a puppet, and had

greasy hair; there are  poems
I can not finish.