Numb

It’s more than pain, and other than

sensation, this space of emptiness;

what remains from the grace

of wrath’s limited abilities.

When the mime strikes like a caged animal,

tearing against the walls-

voice shrilling with reckless

self-destruction- the aftermath is grim.

A casualty weeps

in the shadows of shame.

She is not cut; not torn, burned,

maimed, nor even scarred.

Quite simply, a part of her

very being has been neatly

and irreversibly removed.

And afterwards, once again,

the blind boy crosses the plank,

plummets deep beneath cold

crystal-clear disdain, and resurfaces;

free, for the time being, from all wrath,

while the casual remainder

rides the vivid aftershocks;

as usual, too numb to anticipate

the next disastrous eruption.

Jennifer Burnside