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.

 

 

Liz Fraser