the cicadas are crooning against the damp. oppressively. intolerably.
gospel music trickles out from the bedroom down the hallway.
a pathetic and hollow sneeze is followed by a vicious fit of coughing, followed by phlegm with a compass of its own.
another fast food wrapper is gracelessly torn with grimy fingers. the black-necked grebe is the only symbol of grace to be conjured in the mind’s eye.
for now at least. for now.
Ashlynn Lewis is currently an unpublished poet and aspiring author living in the state of Louisiana.