Kentucky sits down pen in hand.
Words tumble unkempt as she
undressed yet and hungry
not simply to be fed
after arising from her bed
with food and drink
but, with vowels and consonants
in constant need to create meaning
from nightmares and dreams
of words which stream
like Kentucky’s flood
destroying all in its wake
as her words awake and beg
to live above the waterline.
The dreams may drown
but Kentucky’s words live on
battered senseless by the weight
of rushing water tossing them around
until they come to rest upon this page.
Kentucky will dry in these words.
Kentucky will survive in these words.
Kentucky is not gone in these words
but, simply moving on to better days ahead
as she rises again from her nightmare-tossed bed.
Kentucky pulls her blanket of dreams
about her trembling form
determined to rise above and move on
to dry land, where the ink has dried.
annarino writes 