Murky Lake Water

above, oppressed
the droplets drip down your skin
from murky lake water
and I wonder why
no one has jumped at
the chance to catch them
with mouths open
like fish

– Megan Lacombe


The Words

I fear, one day, that I will run out of the words
Talking words
Silent words
Silent as the grave in which I dug them out

I could write
On paper
Long since forgotten
Blown away in the wind
Torn in frustration
Crumpled under fast paced walkers
Used as a napkin for that smear of mustard dribbled down your shirt
Your pants
Your jacket

I fear, one day, that I will lose the words
Saved on a floppy disk
Noted on a recorder
Washed away with rain captured in a storm drain
A tiny voice drowned out
“In my…lifetime…if I was only to write one…one…on…o…”

The words become nothing
I sit

“I have hated the words,
And I have loved them”

I fear, one day, I will run out of

– Megan Lacombe