Wrestle with skin

Grasping limbs
in deep soil
blissfully submerged
-holy ignorance-
no face, no eye
no sun
'till the terrible bloom
reveals and imitates
death
(of sorts)
that strikes
as the light in shade.
I see through eyes
I wrestle with skin
and I am so very afraid.

Queen-Street Rain

Pregnant puddles swell into labouring pools.
Give birth to muggy streams.
Taking first steps down Queen Street.
Drowning city concrete.
Into city bus stops.
Tides of dirty street water
wash over my shoes.
Young girl's bag soaked by waves
generated by city buses,
Separating and dividing the water's unity.