She comes after,
she is the last one
you are going to hear from.
When the wounding goes
beyond the pale, when your hands
are bleeding and bound, and every part
that can be hurt lies drenched in hurt, your face
swollen and bloodless and still, when
you
are the kill,
she comes in
through the dark, through the back door
of no return
to who you were before.
You cannot speak
but she takes her place and she answers, Sleep.
Once again you cannot speak. She picks up her work
and answers again, As long as it takes.