Tuinman – Strewn

Strewn

 Her heart does not gallop like a horse
crossing a spaghetti-western sunset
T-lop, t-lop,
Her heart screams death metal riffs
Blasphemous blood pump won’t slow
when she counts backwards in darkness
presses defibrillator-paddle hands between breasts

Ceaseless angst drip drip drips
panic venom inside her chest;
She feels it in the morning
numb thumbs and a million worries,
midday calm interrupted by
muscles ratcheting to stop
her banshee from punching through ribs

She reminds herself to breath,
wonders why so long after surviving
spontaneous combustion
caveman-fists drawn
flame-thrower putdowns
chain-smoker beer-breath
light-bulb-in-her-face
where-were-you interrogation
on the mattress, pinned down,
T-lop, t-lop Scream Drip

She bleached and scrubbed her history
Ironed it and folded it nice
Filed it under forget-about-it
Still she finds drawers tossed
Contents strewn like guts
across the bedroom floor
She makes a fist, breaths deep
All clear, paddles ready
Counting down

Gwen’s Bio