Pull myself up

Pull myself up and right out of myself

Who am I?

Not that woman sat on the sofa

Pen in hand

Not a creeping woman

Just unknown

I am alien

Trapped in this body

And I want to go home

But my home was taken from me

In exile from myself

Maps and other scraps of evidence

Torn and shredded

I become adsorbed by jigsaws

Satisfied to piece order from chaos

Externally.

 

© Jennifer Winterburn

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