The Storm

Heaviness hangs in the air – the storm looms, yet I linger in bed, staving off the inevitable.
And so It starts – heavy water fills first one, then another, and yet another cistern – water that will dirty to
    sludge in minutes
Heaviness as cloth is sliced through with wet, repelling at first, then accepting of its fate
My own advancing wetness… feet, torso, face


Slow and steady, rhythmic motions, felt in the arms, the back, the legs
Knowing I am no longer young and that ache will linger
How long will it last this time? How long will I last this time?
Filth from the night drains at my feet, and vanishes in the onslaught of the storm.


Working in the Light, then a crack, and sudden darkness
Slipping while trying to get back to the light…another crack, and more darkness
Moving quickly through the wet and musty darkness, outside to the rainbow of alligators hungry for the
   coming food
Mouths open wide, snapping at whatever they can grab; while inside, from a prison of wire, hangs even more
   cloth – Damit!
The alligators hold on fast, fast for days, until at last, damp release

Another week’s laundry is complete.