New for Headcase, by our Poet In Virtual Residence, Brian Bilston
she folded her hurt in half
she folded
her hurt
in half
wrapped
it up
in tissue paper
placed it
gently
inside a box
tied up
the box
with ribbons
attached
a series of
sturdy padlocks
before
locking it
in an iron safe
which she then
carried out
to her car
to drive it
120 miles
to the shore
where
she hired
a boat
to take
her cargo
to a land
with
an unimaginably
vast desert
where she dug
a hole
twenty metres deep
in which
she buried
it all
and then built
on top
a house, a palace,
the streets of a city
which shimmered
in that desert sun
and when
she got home
she found her hurt was still there,
folded in half,
wrapped up in tissue,
and she supposed
the box
must have had
a hole in it.