Content warning: violence.
For now her soft white tee is
unsullied
Soft against
her skin
The wind chill making veins constrict
Numbness overtaking as
the road narrows
She thinks she knows
where she’s going
But she’s too hard on herself
For now she won’t be classified by her
proximity to others
Her proximity to
the issue at hand
closes
All the crawling unfounded abhorrence of the Earth
rushes up to her
Blood bursts
through fresh cotton
The blooming of a veteran’s poppy on her lapel
It finds its way through every groove of
her teeth
Offering itself to the pavement
Has she not offered enough
The only living witness will surely not
cry out in protest of
his own action
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