Mourning Cloak

One possible solution:
she cuts her gold hair, splices black
into its blond fingers. She looks
more European than her German husband.

She rides the U-Bahn tonight in the core
of München, rides under the ground for
maybe a lifetime, for the time it takes
to tell herself (today, again) that leaving

her husband was the right decision.

Other solutions:
take a hiking trip in Switzerland
(she’ll ski the hardest peaks this winter)
learn to sail in Italy with friends.

But tonight as stations flash by
(her own self her own self molded
into the plastic seat cocoon)
she sees them as bright scenes

from her former life as a woman.

Back in the dark tunnel again
she touches her arms, waits
for the first emergence
of wings.

Emily Wall