Where Pain Takes Flight

What she remembers is
her head on her mother’s lap
and the pine out the window,
and though she had climbed its limbs all summer,
only then did she see how it stood solitary,
how it had begun to lean from the constant west wind.

What she remembers
is liquid cold and shocking poured in her aching ear,
where it boiled up and out in a warm crackling
wiped dry with an old towel
as it trickled down her neck.

What she remembers
is the gentle stroke of her forehead
and her hair being pushed
from her eyes.


Selected for Poetry Corners/Bainbridge Arts and Humanities Council-April 2014-Theme: Don’t Be Afraid




2 thoughts on “Where Pain Takes Flight

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