She Erases Herself

Watch the wanderer
Walking the stone road
From extreme to extreme.

Too extreme,
The extremities numb
For lack of blood or warmth.

Then, purple heart,
Straining in heat
Of too much unreciprocated tenderness.

Locked knees in defensive stance,
She knows she deserves this
And reaches now for the bow.

Slackens the joint into easy offense
And takes aim,
But loses the arrow in the void that wears a lover’s face.

Watches the outlines blur and bend
The blunt edge
Blued and blurred in the smudge-smoke night.

Holds the tool steady now
For use on these things.
Do not reveal the depths, the heights.

Hides the within from even herself
Searches for open hand
To pull her out and forward.

Then, releasing into forgetfulness,
The stranger’s glance
From her own eyes.

This, then, is the necessary:
To find the center,
To hear without hurt,
To see without sight,
To feel without fear,
To dream without dread.

No longer to waste the pain in dissolution.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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