We sent shame on a ride into itself.
Sent shame into the prairies
in a covered wagon, unfolded it
like an old blanket and lay down.
We rested on it, regarded ourselves
from a perch high above, where prairies
were a brown-green sea made
by fairies stringing thread.
We nested with shame, petted it,
caressed and put it to bed for the night.
Slept, but our sleep was fitful.
Woke with shame in our hair.