she sits there,
seen and not heardas the herd passes.
her body untouched,
her stomach tightened with a drawstring.it was definitive.
cold metal.
inescapable.
but it passes.
her breath steadies as the dust settles,
and the clamour fades away.she couldn't understand why they chose her.
why she was the warm body they all jostled to own.
YOU ARE READING
weeds.
Poetrysometimes you need to return to the soil to feel the triumph of what once grew.