by The Cowl Editor on September 17, 2020
Poetry
by Grace O’Connor ’22
Bubbles stand still in time, dancing through the pressure of the push on the plastic
The liquid distorts the image in front as it pushes against the molded bottle
The only release is the tiny white nozzle
That holds the exit to freedom and confinement that lies below
Dissolving is its purpose leaving behind its clear path
As it pours out sterile relief from the consistent light push of the thumb and index finger
It kills the invisible particles that creep between the crevices
With just one dot and intertwining of fingers
It buries itself behind objects until it is needed
Ending its life as it dries slowly, obliterating everything in its path