PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

francis is sleeping by the fire, her soft body is rising and falling with the flames, weaving in and out as dad twirls his hair-

black curls peeling around his finger, laughing as static sears out from the tv screen. 

I am 

sopping wet on the kitchen floor, linoleum spotted with dripping water,

trapped behind the counter 

seperated from him-

begging for a towel to dry off the stench of the lake from my skin 

and my matted hair