Grey & Green & What's In Between

She feels stagnant as the swamp
on a grey afternoon, the water
covered with puke green algae
broken only by bloodshot alligator
eyes protruding from it’s murky depths.
She’s the rotting waterlogged cypress
log whose only movement originates
from the prodding of another less
inanimate object. Minutes, hours, days
pass and only the moon revolves.