The Wounded Road
 
She stares into the bathroom mirror,
surprised to see her angled collar bone.
She wonders when she last had a meal.
So many days are wrapped in wispy gauze.
 
Surprised to see her angled collar bone,
she flinches at the unfamiliar lines.
So many days are wrapped in wispy gauze,
discarded clothing strung across the floor.
 
She flinches at the unfamiliar lines,
long, limp hair stuck to scar-marked cheeks.
Discarded clothing strung across the floor,
a testament to black holes in her mind.
 
Long, limp hair stuck to scar-marked cheeks,
she wonders when she last had a meal.
A testament to black holes in her mind,
she stares into the bathroom mirror.

Arvilla Fee

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Arvilla Fee   would like to hear them