They told me as a child,
pick the fish-bone from your plate and go
quietly behind the one
who is choking on her dinner. Find
a way to deposit
that mineral sliver in her hair,
and she will be spared.
I believed without asking,
trusted without coiling
my spine. How is it possible
I could hold out my hand then
and touch, or hold, and nothing broke?
In response to Via Negativa: Self-exile.