An Absence

thirsty, cracked mud
trampled by the glare
of waning light
escalating darkness
like a contraction
the end, terrifying
and unknown

my truth is here
raw and public
flogged
with the tenderness
of shame


forever
seeking a shelter

in the written words of women
the juncture between shadows
and what lies
just beneath the syllable 
of need


i can read myself 
out
of this stagnant
stifling
separatism


crushing the isolation
into
feigned solidarity 

i don't care.