Somewhere Else to Go
Marianne Brems


A tiny aneurism ruptures like a silent explosion
inside her head
as people just out of sight
don sweaters, feed their dogs, enter agreements.
In an obesity of pain,
she lies down next to her bicycle
by the side of the road.
 
Billows of her breath move into a world
where arms fold around newborns
as often as accidents claim lives.
Her stomach empties onto cold grass
while torment and urgency stay put.
A siren serving someone else’s struggle
wails weakly in the distance.
 
The victim of an aggressor with no remorse
that may or may not release her,
blood trickles from her brain into unwelcome cavities
while drivers sail by with somewhere else to go.