.
There’s a certain shhhhhhh
when she holds her breath,
the slow and quiet death
of busy-ness and need for
brilliance. Her resilience
comes in these sea-salted
places, traces of ink pulled
over pre-stained skin. Begin
to know her here in this re
-flection, this change of
direction, and you’ll see: to
-morrow’s every bit as muted
as she molds it to be.
.
Prompted by Poetic Asides.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Excellent. I love this poem.
This morning I read that last line as “as she molds it to de”!
“Pre-stained skin” is great. Also death of “need for brilliance” — but you don’t have to worry about that because your poetry is brilliant!