she once carried on her back
silent pain till a balloon
popped
and all the anxiety withered in the
warm
trickle of blood down her leg, down stream
into zero
she discended—that child, into a warm
haze where
they left her-- all of them
she was kind of floating out there
till the bite brought her back, the
red
rivered puddles: the world was
clear again,
the world was clear and the sheath stayed warm
with knife-in-mind for years
scars mapped her body in
stripes,
blotted constellations beneath her sleeves
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