[            ]

when the refuge
you normally seek

[silence]

becomes a place of

[pain]

that overwhelms
and chokes:
like

.             .kudzu.
.                    .ice.
.                           .loneliness.

There is a pain — so utter —
It swallows substance up —
Then covers the Abyss with Trance —
So Memory can step
Around — across — upon it —
As one within a Swoon —
Goes safely — where an open eye —
Would drop [her] — Bone by Bone.*

* (599) __There is a pain so utter__ Emily Dickinson

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