Poetry: Sponge Days


some days
I seem to be a sponge
sadly not the sea-born sort
that rests now on my bathtub rim
there to scrub my skin with suds
then lie still again


Iโ€™m not even the kind
dually designed
with sides to scrub and wipe
to wash the dishes and clean the counters
and earn its sleep each night


I feel like the faded one
used to clean everything else
wrung to weightless dryness
and I will fall apart
and I will fade away


because home wasn't built in a day

Sponge Days, copyright Meredith C. Jackson, 2019

11 thoughts on “Poetry: Sponge Days”

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