Breadcrumb #283


Before the sun turned over

     on winter’s soft heaps, you heaved

the door open

     and packed white down with each step;

the wind blew

     your chin to your chest,

your eyes to your boots,

     and then you were

on the ground.

     A metal post before you,

a splitting pang on your face, your back

     on the ice, cold flurries prickled in-

side of your waistband

     and you became your fourteen year old self

who didn’t know

     the weight of her body

in his hands.

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