her guilt and shame

i.
it thickens between her shoulders
a fist at the base of her neck
with muscle closed tightly inside

ii.
like dropping sushi, chopsticks crossed
in error she laughs awkwardly with red face
and nothing but a thinsoiled napkin
soaking up pools of blacksalty soy

iii.
turning over and over
at restless midnight with
a scene from the day stuck
repeating how she said “it’s just my way”
too proudly

iv.
standing at the door monday morning
her brow furrowed in consideration
of red shoes to work which
may not be appropriate