(Photo credit Rockroehre)


(Trish Jean)

She felt sliced
From nape to knee
Ribbons of flesh
Swaying as she rocked herself
And crooned
A love song to whales

It may have been radical
To grasp the flensing knife
She’d been adrift in the
Open boat of her own life
The best change she thought
Would be the change of sight

The strips of skin
And blubber and blood
And story made
Her feel lighter
Though they stung
As the salt water claimed them

She gave to the ocean
What she despised
Moved in the ripples
Of a new harbour
Felt suitable and alive
Life would love her now she was sure

She emerged wrapped
In a cloak of acceptability
This new pain was better beneath raw skin
She could be among the many
She would come to know that in being more
She had somehow become less


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