RDP Sunday: FLOAT
Emily drank cemetery water, every single day
it was in her tea, she bathed in it too and when
she woke in the morning
she would splash it on her face before she combed her hair
and dressed for the day.
It is a small mercy Emily never knew
that when she laughed or coughed or sneezed
cemetery water flew from between in lips, an invisible mist
that danced around her face like fireflies
or rabid fairies to music no one could hear.
I do wonder if Emily ever stood
on the bridge crossing the river
that carried the cemetery water to her home
and if she tossed flowers into the current
and watched them float away.
I took a few liberties in describing Emily drinking cemetery water- but sad to say it’s based in fact: