This poem was written after we took a walk to the cemetery and were icky afterward.
Sweat
Glistening on my forehead,
Beading above my lip,
Resting near my shirt collar,
Clinging to my hair,
Trickling along the back of my neck,
Slipping toward the bottom of my back,
Dripping down my legs,
Soaking the seat of my pants,
Pooling in that hollow between my chest and my stomach,
Lining my underarms,
Covering, encompassing, drowning me,
This salty, sticky, sweat.
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