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The Thorn

Poetry & Prose | May 1, 2011
By Anika Ades

 

I stepped on something sharp in the shower
Unexpected, when I was used to the wetness
And constant danger of slipping
The gritty thorn, blood black from where I stood
Hurt as I pressed my foot onto it
But came as I was sliding, a little
So that I halted on the slope to the drain.