Ripples

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Submerged in my folly, 
waiting for the bubbles to stop,
with my nose pinched to avoid a smell,
that won’t wash off
I created ripples,
with my fingers and my knees apart,
the droplets collected and hung from my nails,
weighed down and bobbing like ducks 
until they could take no more and 
broke
but left no dent in the water

I’ve got wishbones for legs,
they break with the slightest pull,
I let them emerge like mountain tops from murky water
and hold them to my chest,
I want to be a fold up chair or
vanish down the plug.

My own stray hairs float past,
like the ones that gather in the corners of your room,
pulled out just this morning
and my tears
when they kamikaze into the water,
make everything ripple again.

Like china plates smashed on linoleum floors,
I am only becoming smaller
and like lime scale on the taps,
this malaise won’t go even when I scratch it,
I count on pruned fingers the minutes,
and wonder if you’d get here on time
if anyone would get here at all
I try keep this water like a mirror,
but when I leave
you can guarantee there will be
ripples.
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