the snake
the bite
and
the anecdote
chase each other
through the same
shared stream of blood

gaining nothing
but the nerves they are put upon

abrasive
obsessive

circulating
within itself

a toxic enclosure of self loathing

Later, after being caught up in the storm
a shred of torn, frayed fabric
waves from the top spokes
of the surrounding
hard wired fence

its fibers flowing free

dressed as herself now
the wind carries nothing

wearing only her last words

nowhere
to be found