breathing steven, jaynie

As if to illustrate, raging, she writes (of work, subjectively):
‘…My strange neck, my one good hand… each withering a bone-end free…’
Adding: ‘…some sharpened stick will break the lock, will suck me back, you’ll see…’
Or ‘…This thing will bring some further ring, some further tendency…’

Tipping now, or twisting
She apes shapes of (a) donkey (illustrating burden)
Of (b) panda (illustrating prone)
Aping these shapes and others alone

As if to illustrate, as klaxon, she writes (of work, subjectively):
‘…Today I will sing me, in order to mend me…’
‘…I will think me, in order to bend me…’
‘…I will make fists of my hands to defend me…’

Sinking now, but still listing
She conjures land, conjures bank;
Fallen trees across an inch-deep pond;
Some chunk of land to lie upon

Meanwhile and elsewhere
He ducks her shadow as a prank
Adding litres of tears
Where she sank

Pouring over
These features of his sting
He follows her down
Taking everything