Dry

I felt my vessel

had become a sieve,

suddenly unable

to capture and retain

that which would slake my thirst

For though the day was not devoid of brightness,

I found no pool within,

in which to reflect —

just a dry concavity

in which to feel alone,

a place collecting shadows

and the sound of bones.

©Wendy Mulhern

December 13, 2018