Ode to a wet bra.

There are no words
to describe the pain
of removing a sports bra
after a run in the rain.

The sock removal is bad.
Two sad, soggy slaps
land on the tiles
like swampy little wraps.

Peeling off my legs
would be a breeze
if I weren’t so stiff
and could bend at the knees.

Wrestling off my top,
there’s nothing here of grace,
especially when my arms get stuck
and damp fabric clings to my face.

But the final straw,
the thing they don’t tell you:
soaking wet sports bras
are the work of the devil.

This weeks running took place mostly in the rain.

Make this ok by sending cash and good vibes to my fundraising pot!