Thirteen, wrapped in spider milk dreams,
she steps from the kerb, warning unheard
beneath melodies and verse.
She remembers it hard;
metal-glass shards of light,
sun bright, plucking at tearless eyes.
Years pass, everything fades,
even the blade that snaked from her
quiet throat past whalebone white.
And still, as she dreams, she steps
from the kerb, warning unheard
beneath sonnets and song.
This time, no metal chassis,
just his hard body slamming
into her small, soft frame.
He takes her, broken and bruised,
while she chases her mind
through sunflower fields
her tongue catching
on one beautiful word