Last winter break she was broken and white,
like salt on mahogany; spilled and unused.
Around the corners of her mouth
she sees fire slowly melting it’s way this time around
and molding her into gold.
But she’s a pearl,
she’s a diamond and
she screams because she doesn’t want to be burnt
The crowbar pries her eyes shut and;
she listens feverishly because her ears are her only sense left.
The winter has made her cold.
It has numbed at her heart and worn out her sweater,
she doesn’t want to wear it anymore.
So she goes to a thrift shop,
she cannot afford a fancy forlorn cloth to strap around her body,
she spent too much money cleaning herself up;
after last winter break.
She ‘borrows’ a scarf of the scent of pink lemonade
and leaves two brown pennies less on the slate.
But she does not shoplift often, for she
believes in the Bible and believes in the mysteries and
controversies it contains.
Her mind is a narrow thread of handloom fiber,
so gentle, so meek
that she frays whenever she thinks of
last winter break.