Washing Machine
Strum. Strum. Adjust. Tweak. Doing
this until zen. TV showing slow
footage, a greedy trapdoor spider.
I ain’t dig him. I turn around, meet
a column malicious water. Jumble
tussle. Flood flames lungs. Barbaric.
Brutal. The Strid River Wharfe has
diabolical hooks. Body, mind, soul,
journey involves wet frenzy. Some
only a few, others daily. A violent
flash. Present healing. Healthy flow.
There are completed tests. You’ll
resuscitate me, I’ll return the favor.
Breathe and release. A magnificent
reset.