Stain
Today the clouds thicken like gravy-
ink blots stain the sky.
Silence after silence unloads
its ill will at my feet.
I am accustom to it
and it has settled.
The sky continues to ashen
as it swallows the pine trees
like a relentless Sandpoint, Idaho snowstorm
consuming all in its way.
The day spills its impressions
like a half-full glass
which leaves me as empty
as an astounding wail
from a 90-year-old woman's
crippled up body.
Copyright © Dawnell Harrison | Year Posted 2019
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