by Margery Hannah

Before I paved still air

to my place of bread
I was unpleasant

unpleasantly duressed by a lack
of water
I could wash neither body

nor favorite dress

nor feed my yielding inedible plant
nor swallow it

240 minutes waterless
So I quenched my thirst with color
from geographical pages

and saw a girl with eyes old and body young

crying tears to water food
refusing to grow

beneath the lit torch
Her clothes
a part of her being, who she is and is not 

who she dreams of leaving behind

One day, one day, one day
she will live

in the water
She will breathe the water
eat the water, commit to the water

She will be the water

and dry air will vanish
belly cries will disappear
and my drained throat
will be her ice filled glass of water
My inedible plant, vast and green

her fruit tree

and in my soap filled washing
water she will bathe the earth

from her dust filled skin
She will drink water, tearless
She will teach the water to be

as the earth residue that would not

wash away
Her eyes are tearless, yet crying

from the guilt of knowing ways
unpleasant, unpleasant, unpleasant

By Margery Hannah

© Margery Hannah 2003-2022 All Rights Reserved

Author Margery Hannah


  • Margery Hannah

    “A writer writes, aways.” (Larry Donner, Throw Mama from the Train) The musings of Margery Hannah, a multi-genre writer, on an array of subject matter through a literary lens. Every raindrop has a story.

Leave a Reply