Gargle

Reposted from an old blog of mine


I tried to write some poetry last night
but the well was dry, taxed too far
I've stolen sips once in awhile
and the perfect water kept my throat wet
Tangible and tasty droplets teased my tongue
and I drank until they became grains of salt.
That was when I choked.
Some of the brine is still in my eyes
and they sting, everything is seen through a new lens.
Yet the blurred faces still make sense to me.
And I understand their smiles.
Perhaps someday my vision will clear.
Maybe I will never be thirsty.
I think I will drink my water
From another pool, this time.