June 11, 2021
Amy Devine
Four times I have seen it,
The evidence of a pain I did not feel -
Once: I am thrown from a horse but faint as the ground rushes to catch me.
When I wake up, my face is painted with twin stripes like runaway train tracks.
Twice: The doctor says that my blood has been poisoning me, hidden behind ribcage and muscle
And daily bread.
When I leave I am bruised indigo and yellow in the hollows of my body.
Three times: I let something ugly and desperate grow roots too deep.
Something catches and flashes silver in the morning light if I turn it just so. Just in the corner of my eye.
The fourth time
it was only an exhale
A turning over in deep sleep
The next day we went to the country and burned our tongues on bitter coffee
But - I suppose - at least it was bitter
Amy Devine lives in Sydney, Australia, and is an artist from a lineage of artists. She is inspired by storytelling and stars and is currently working on her first chapbook.