Wind Born
She thought of herself as Dorothy
tornadoed into an unknowable oblivion
winded she rises,
fetal curled about an umbilicus of she
a shattered reality lays before her.
Shards of past self's pirouette, prisms
released from the boxed frame of sash
and nested frame of sill,
she rises.
The crisp whiteness of a slip sheeted reality
anesthetizes the tumult of pillows
and comforters left behind
she is trampolined upward
but blown inward,
no out lay.
Unpierced by cut glass
chin tucked, bookless, fairy groomed,
the she child exists within the blink
a flash frozen riser.
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