Hanging On

The ground wet with slime sucked
my feet until they swelled
like two red rubber Crocs.
Branches like arms of scarecrows
poked and scratched
at me until my knees hit the grass.
Splashes of muddy rainwater
taunted me in slow motion
and splattered my face brown.
I fell to meet the slug wriggling
in sinuous obscene motions
that said "I won! I won!"
The trail was lost, washed away
in a bath of ethnic cleansing.
I crawled to the side and wrung
my arms around a twine, swaying
like a leaf on a twig and justice
came in the form of slaps
of rain on my face.

The Snow In Life

I know winter by the flakes that fall
and their edgy patterns of softness;

how they can stack up against the wall
like a crack to divide our world,

and how we can stand and watch them melt
like a snowman standing in a garden

at the change of season when the snow blends
once more into our lives and it's too late

to ask if we should erase the blow
before it hardens or collect the water as it melts.