Poetic Transitions
Though this is a poem about Spring, I feel Fall comes with its own new beginnings.
Though this is a poem about Spring, I feel Fall comes with its own new beginnings.
I am in a bathtub filled with tepid bathbombed navy blue water. I’m sick, stuffy nosed, dripping nostrils, packed sinuses The dryer twirls and drags clothes Metal fasteners scratch metal, Fabric thwacking on metal, Tumbling While the washer spins so fast it sounds like a jet engine About to push off, away from the tarmac,… Continue reading The Bathtub