Under close scrutiny
she came unraveled
trying to hold secrets
that weren't hers to keep.
Poked and prodded by
strange instruments meant
to cure her of her ills,
she receded further into
silence.
Dreams of gnarled hands,
poisonous snakes and
paths that never end
haunted her sleep.
Her only plan was
to return to the
edge of the precipice
and hope for
forward motion.
1 comment:
your poem has an undeniable immediacy and honest beauty. great road trip work. !!
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