She releases a shiver,
a sight unclean.

She runs
for the headland,
willing to toss herself to gods.

to visions, that grab at her
without consent.

Cut too short.
She stumbles
like a lamb,
though she is old.

A browned leaf
in hostile wind.

She bends back.
She cracks.

She does not break.

But tumbles.

A version of this poem first appeared on Poet’s Corner April 26th, 2016 under the title “Trauma”.

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