I stain.
Warm backs push me back into stone.
A glistening eye darts around the room and it stops,
(On me).
On a hot summer day
I snail my way to the top,
I melt my way to the floor,
I meet all kinds of debris;
A hair shed, a flake of skin,
A leg of a bug-
All loosely attached, much better traveled.
I longed for another dimension once.
Today a fingernail came forth,
Strait across,
Пылинка (1) dislodged,
And landed in a glass of Морс(2).
(1)Пылинка- [ pilinka], a dust particle
(2) Морс- [mors], a type of berry juice