protest

I could cry at the pain:
incessant, insistent as I sit
gnawing at my ankle-bones
shredding sinew, pressing flesh

but I don't - I stare
at the wall alternately
the screen again the
book I am reading -

grey-bearded cleric, 
neat against the red uniform bricks -
I fell today -
I always fall -

unwavering stare into pits
only I can see.  It hurts me -
it pains me -
I could cry at the pain:

but I don't: I sit and stare
at the wall alternately 
the screen again the
book I am reading -

tiny moment of breath and
tender organicism - how soft
will my flesh fall
from me in the grass and rain

and as it fades, left
the iron bone exposed
nothing left to feel it will lie
stoic, foregone

china doll	metal bath
forgotten lace	brown
bottles		crochet
empty coathangers

the fretwork of a cage
once the coverings have
slipped, exposed to the
wind to smooth and bend

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