Sticky Trap

Quicksand dries,
mud to dirt to dust,
lost desert in disguise.

At local bar, little bird’s panicked slurp,
suction-cupped high-heeled steps,
careless where predators lurk.

A sinking myth,
man’s ever-shifting sand.
The female form
floats supine on its surface,

but never takes a stand.


Lisa is the host for d’Verse’s Quadrille #133 asking us to take a stand. Join us.

Artwork: “Quicksand” by Ric Conn

29 Comments

    1. K.Hartless

      Yes, but those that chose not to take bold moves are often misunderstood. Trying to stand in quicksand is a mistake; there is more than one way to free yourself. Eek, this late-night write has more layers than I even originally intended.

      Liked by 2 people

    1. K.Hartless

      Thank you, Worms. Just between you and I, I wasn’t sure where this one was heading either. Glad the piece didn’t get stuck in the mud. It was great fun to rejoin Monday night shenanigans. Enjoyed the variety in the pieces.

      Like

  1. msjadeli

    The image you chose really grabs attention. You’ve laid out the dynamics so deftly, the quicksand that becomes toxic waste, the hopefully fading myth that somehow it is ever the woman’s fault for being raped, and the saving maneuver. Excellent poeming, K.

    Liked by 1 person

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