Watt
Disturbed enough
To dream of
Peace of mind
The rat race glitches
-You to grasp
And me to find-
Inhale, Gasp
You’re swallowing the rasp
Of this universal glide
Survive
It’s something in your clutch
Hued and less imbued
With or without
Rust
Growing in your clasp,
Threatening the mold
Dis s o l v e
When you think you have a hold
Frail, untangling vines
Soar, just in your mind
Where there’s never nothing more
Than this
7/8/2021
Writing Prompt - Grasp - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
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