Thoroughwort, snakeroot, aster,
A healing plant’s common names
Tend to suggest disaster.
I think it again,
Each time I’ve been to the lake
And rinsed the thirst from my skin.
My pulse leaps, then slows,
When cold replaces the pain.
In my dark bones, something glows.
The descriptors for this hint
Cast fractures—a cold bracing,
Biting, tightening like a splint.
But I’m imagining things.
Names are echoes' scarce remains.
Only experience sings.
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