She heard the sound echoing around her.
The sound was heavy and commanding,
A prehistoric bird perhaps, swooping in
To snatch her from herself.
Opening her eyes, enveloped
By white light
And a heavy vibration in
Her empty chest.
White light shrouded by impossible
Wings above her.
She could see no face.
She opened her mouth;
She tried to scream.
Was the only sound.
Slow and pregnant.
Tilting her head and searching around her
All she could see was
The empty chests of countless girls
A wing reached down and covered her.
Grace reformed to heaviness and darkness.
Taking her breath as she gasped one last time.
This is just a very rough first draft still…inspired by an interview with poet laureate Billy Collins heard on NPR yesterday.