Get ready
for a beautiful diminishment
of beauty.

I am braver.
Expect the ragged,
messy and bits of
mud and blood,
thorns and straw
poking everywhere,
astray.

I will drag through a hedge
backwards and
not care a jot.
I will go flying,
fall face down and
laugh
brazenly,
with tears.

I will wade into
a torrent,
snare my bare
foot in stones
along its bed,
soak right through and
nearly drown,
with longing.

I will try so hard
to form the impossible
that it will form
in me,
and you,
so beware.

Beauty is on its
way out because
it’s coming.