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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