Spring 2022
A Trauma Song Elle Provolo
A way for me to hold my breath when swimming is Too difficult to match the ocean’s fury. Remembering my own name just so I could choke on my screams As if the song of the waves didn’t erode the shore of my memory Unlike the desert which has been scarred by my cyclical pacing over its terrain. Maybe my mother will understand why I am afraid of the mountain’s shadows And my father will begin to listen to the hum of the creek. Salt lingers in the waters and my scars are bleeding again Only if I knew the fish intimately would I know how to let go None of my wounds can speak without whispering, I am a Goner
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