Turning White

Paper soaked in rain
grabbing my suede as I run
garrapatas
up the stairs two at a time
one, two, three, four, here
I go without slipping on
my thoughts too much
incase with the rain
comes Consternation's lament
or some such regret
hanging as wet
turning white

Published January 26, 2010 Write a comment
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Karin Anderson
This poem is highly visual to me as you count the stairs in soaked paper. Like Fay I find 'without slipping on my thoughts' a fine piece of imagery...
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Fay Slimm
Wet with artistic turns of phrase - - this grabs the mind immediately. - - - "slipping on thoughts" is freshly unique.
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