a size-too-small
turtleneck
clinging to my skin
compressing my chest
leaving my contours
in stark relief
exposed
I become
trapped
wounded animal
hiding under the front porch
bleeding
panting for breath
capable of biting the hand
reaching out to help me
far more accustomed
to nursing my injuries
in stubborn
proud
isolation
worrying my wounds
with rough tongue
 
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved