the other press Gallery March 12, 2003
http://otherpress.douglas.bc.ca

 

Poetry/Fiction/Essays/etc.

 

 

The end

How can this implosion be called pain? I step on a tack... I feel pain. I crack my head
on a cupboard door that’s been left open... that’s pain. Three children passing through
a tunnel shrieked open by twisted waves of agony... I know pain

Impaled, I slowly slide forward, feeling the coldness...am I dead?

 

 

 

deliver me.
give me back
for one moment the tether that bound me
named flesh
I called mine
By Wendy Harris

 

 

 

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