Turning Points Poem by Daffodil Decarie

Meet me between wound’s bruise
behind twigged truth, across
deceit’s terrain, beneath confusion
after the rain drops, beyond fiery
wry faces, false hope
.
There, you’ll see me put on dresses
casually wait in coat blue, stare
as if in awe, as seen in non-fiction
breaking great walls, barriers
no longer cause my wreckage
I understand, turning points
;
As a tangle, it can stand, crooked
as a snarl, just think of skin crisp
as a nag, just think how you walk through
labyrinth of hydra, sophia and hypatia.