The Dirt

Written by: Erin Beckett

Rain soaks straight through
the wood of the old house
like cold and heavy, 
like something lost

and desperate for warmth
A frenzy of mud and earth 
and water mixing muddied water

And I can picture her there
crying heavy tears to challenge the rain,
the way she used to challenge everything
she lost

Her mascara-laden dirt 
forming a trail of its own
behind the veil of her worn-out curtains

She tried washing clean,
she tried shaking off the grime
This time, she lost

With no one there to blame
And she alone carries the bruises
of her heavy fall

and clenches her eyes as she tries
to scrub away the dirt
that eases in the cracks
of the sin-stained walls

turning them back into mud
Like a once un-yielding fortress
tumbling back to earth

It's the only changing thing 
In this old house