Tearing at your own flesh will make blood.
Attempting inhibition often creates eruptions.
Occasionally it’s a restraint of wild woman anger,
but most often a deluge of tears.
*
Watcher of changing morning light.
When in one’s own wound
there is no separation, lest her story of loneliness.
*
Tender shells make for better prey.
Over forty years of armoring.
*
Embellishments found across the ocean
fade by the sun.
Attractive trinkets for the joy of noticing.
*
Exhalation returns.
So does disappointment.
*
Inexplicable blues of desert sky beyond white sheer cotton,
and a vibrant ancient orange draped on strong wood
is pause worthy.
*
Aches can seem like they will swallow a person whole.
Or there is the possibility of diminishment over time, like the tiniest leak on a tire.
*
Temperatures unusually cold makes sensation of a body more accessible.
Able body. Mother of a child with a less able body.
Woman who carries a 15 year old body, beautiful body.
*
A she who holds so much more than bones and blood.
Silent tears, loud wails behind closed doors of empty houses.
*
Reverential current that continues to exist sustaining organs.
One square inch at a time allows the new dawn to return what was possessed.