Sediment
The carpet
is worn thin and stained with ink.
The night is shallow. I put my hand in to test the depth
of water. It reaches only to my knuckles.
Today I dragged them along the gravel road home.
Dad still hasn't fixed the potholes, and the journey gave me blisters,
my achilles heels.
I dreamt my parents forgot who I was and woke up crying.
My tears made my morning tea. Lemon and honey.
Vision blurred out a speeding train, I couldn't remember
where the house was.
I asked a man in the street but he looked at me coldly
and told me to get Jesus in my life.
When I arrived I knew I was still lost but
everyone smiled.
Here the water becomes deeper again, I'm in my element.
The night will be long and silent;
My grazed skin will heal with the time I have hidden
under the carpet.
Copyright © 2007 Laura Howell
