This one was written for JD Mader's 2minutesgo writing exercise. Head over there this weekend to write or read - www.jdmader.com/2022/01/2-minutes-go_28.html
Motion
looms, a wide open pit
in which snakes rattle heads,
hissing. Their bodies curl, contract.
They wait. They have all the time.
You crawl. You paper over the cracks.
You conceal how you feel,
so the whole world can’t see.
A daily prison. You cannot step too far.
Its confines are now your life,
slimmed down, the joy sucked out.
The rain continues to plummet
and you want to drink it,
but your enthusiasm has died
on the wind. And the clock ticks.
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