She walks in rainbows
which are cast into the kitchen
like inverted shadows discarded by some greater purpose
like her.
Her feet are awash in colors
but she is swimming in a sea of doubt.
What wouldn't she give for more time, and yet
how it hurts her to know
that she might only waste it.
Her hands are digging in the cupboard
Her head feels bare and strained.
It's another bitter morning, honey
Here, have something for the pain.
She hears the sugar slip from the counter
taking its sweet time to reach the floor
she turns and is dizzy to see it suspended
and she aches, how she aches for the breaking -
but it lands intact.
Now there are shards of white
in her veins, a poisonous crunch
like that of snow beneath booted feet
on dusky February afternoons.
There is a fault line in her stomach now
and she waits for the end
as surely as she waits for tomorrow.
The fear is captivating though she longs to let it go
and as she waits
she walks in rainbows.