The Wet Giro Grinds On
Week Two Poem Recap
The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence but by oft falling.
– Lucretius
The only safe place
is in bed. Coffee, tea,
something warm in a cup.
But that’s not the job.
Pain. Cold. Biting
at wet gloves, stripping
soaked jackets, blowing
grimy road spray from
numb nostrils and lips.
Slick streets. Shattered
bikes. Sicknes…Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
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