Poem A Week

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1. 
   

   herb
   herb · Feb 22, 2025

   i fell into the margins of lake and hill,
   wisps of raindrops grazing the firmament
   and i winced at the stream back home,
   its icy-cold rapids eating away at my body
   heat like the desert yearns for the oasis,
   i rot, i rot like the seafoam on the shore,
   i rot like the burble of the creek as it
   washes over the corpses and it washes
   over my sin. i rot like a stagnant pond.
   
   
   and all the same, the stairwell is still soaked.

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