elemental

there is no way out
of the mind and its
sticky webs that hold you
and make you think
you can't move

day of stasis and
lowering colour, even the
hot sun could not
wake me up, nor

the smell of the earth
or the weeds in a bucket
fought from the soil
inch by gritted inch

and so the hours went by
and by the toll of the bell
the Ball ended and I
had to scurry home with
the mice

I should have thought
harder and clobbered
my way
out of the ice, 
leapt free, with fire-and-brimstone-fingers

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