It was the post titledPhoto Of A Dead Terroristthat pushed me over-capacity.Melting into a make-it-stoppuddle, mixed with the mudof what-have-we-doneness,I backed away from the screen,caught the gaze of ten-years-until-nineteen, and wept.
Izy asked the Real Toads to write a poem about melting that does not contain references to fire or ice, heat or cold. This is poem number 19 of 30 for National Poetry Writing Month.