Hange Zoë
.
.
.
.i
she's been through hell and back before
skimming gnashing teeth
she's made of earth
and glinting silver
hardened and sharpened
.ii
she could be a tragedy
called one, at least
she is the survival
of the mud
and the mucker
of the breaking of bones on purpose
close to drowning in spilled-over blood
.iii
she is rust and dust
the heaving, heavy reluctant breaths of change
she winds the cogs
of a future
she's not going to make it to