Rough Draft Disposed
Diversified, she sat upon the page
a tiny dot of incoherence brushed into the ink
She wondered how she got so small
and stretched to reach an "A",
the brink
which started the sentence of her life,
a thousand words to hide away.
While she studied the paper rift
she noticed the fibrous weave
of every white of every letter
to chalky dust inhaled to breathe
She split herself into twenty times two
and walked the page a struggle
So tired and broken of breath and lung
she scattered and sunk to ink
to sleep, to weep, to wallow and keep
every thought that she dared yet to think
And while the wind caught up the page
and settled it into a pond
she gathered herself in her incoherence
and wrote herself into beyond.
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