The clotted red hammer dropped.
The light, north star, my reason
lies afraid behind the bathroom door.
 
Driven to the floor like a pale nail.
She reaches for a strand of hair;
a soft cobweb bothering her face.
 
Her complaint is trembled nonsense.
Lost fingers fuss with her blouse.
She tries clumsily to rise confused.
 
The light, north star, my reason
lies afraid on the bathroom floor.
One word translates out ” fallen “