Experience rises in her throat,
moving behind firm-pressed lips.
It builds between bone and flesh
stretching flushed derma
into round cisterns, tight and fraught,
creaking, anticipating,
brooding on the physics of freedom.
She tightens brow and jaw,
pinches oval skin into
infinite ripples, holding
until fatigue burns beneath
the failing facade.
Weary.
Collapsing.
How much more can rise
without expulsion?
Aspiring author, poet, literary artist
