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by Amanda Conlogue

the sky is bruised by the storm
taken too many lightning strikes
it rumbles its protests, unheeded
the rain stings my open face
like seconds after a slap
connects with a turned cheek
then goes numb, I'm tired
the steam of my labored breath
is caught by the wind
my skin slickened by
overbearing humidity pressing
me down, it's all too heavy
the heat, the air, the rain
my thoughts, thinking
of you, pinning me down
needling me like the rain
all other thoughts have
been washed away
down the storm drains
my cigarette ashes scatter
in the night, nothing
remains except the lingering
distaste in my mouth
bitter cotton
all I have left.

Written days after a friend's suicide.


Posted on 08/22/2002
Copyright © 2024 Amanda Conlogue

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