Fear.
It is Red Rover
and the one whose doubt fills her as she watches herself
run across the field toward the wall of clasped fists and forearms.
Their faces blur. Shoulders go soft-focus, until only an impenetrable wall of limbs,
bony and tensile, are in view
and what shifts hardest into focus is the understanding that they all serve the same purpose.
Stop her.
And what is not in focus, as she heaves toward them, is that they are her.
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