Her body used to be humming
With ideas. Words like sand filling
Her boots and zipping around her
Insides. Leaping from ***** to *****,
Splashes and jack-knives into A positive veins
Glitter metaphors filling lungs,
Thick phrasing weighing down intestines like
Dried mud on tires.
Now everything is static and stuttered
And to wake it up we’ll need
To take the the pin out of this grenade.