this new body, born of old, is still too wracked to call my own.

fragile neck and curled, stiff spine;

I try to be too kind and wise

to a thing that will not bend. so, then, rebel.

do not sleep and do not eat,

let sores run ragged, fresh and deep.

but it heals too fast, clings to life despite.

run, dodge, creep.

there is water in the well.


© 2019 Anna-Christina Betekhtin, All Rights Reserved.

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