“One cannot transcend trauma,” she says.
And that’s what we worry abut
so we clench and clench and clench
knowing that perhaps we are hammering in
nails that will keep us trapped
beneath dirt and grass and flowers
in an underworld of trauma
and traumatic aftermath
and memories of teeth in
bloody pools
muscles that could not stop crying
EMTs afraid of infection yelling
And each time you’re thinking:
I can go back and make it unhappen!
These are the fibres that we bundle into
the spacetime of aftermath
The number of pills today is the metric.