Contention Hymn

You watch as she squats

on the ground, knees to chest


as if she could just fold herself

into nothing, at the very most


something insignificant.  There is

a man there, acting nervous as hell,


but she won’t look at him.  You wonder

why.  A tear streaks the dirt on her face,


as she begins rocking back and forth,

on her feet as her body has accordion-ed to


some sort of tri-folded posture where her

only music can be heard in the hymns of burned


down cathedral’s ash.  He says nothing: watching.

Looking up to the sun, she says, Don’t


fucking worry about me, I ain’t nuthin to look at.


1 Comment

  1. Powerful image created with your words.

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