PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I dangle perilously from the edge

                        of her words

with slippery equivocal surfaces

   that laugh the vain, sweaty grip

                        of my hand

merciless but jingling so sweetly

   as i stumble out of her sky

(Icarus who thought he could fly)

to die a dusty, thirsty death

  in some overlooked rain barrel

      denied its purpose in the drought

but baking and wilting

         i'm waiting for her rain