This poem was written in 2000. It has been published temporarily (15-22 April 2012) by the24project.
(After Humbert Wolfe; concerning one who no longer appears publicly in a wheelchair.)
You need not tell her story again.
Recycled stories, even the curiest,
with no new data in the pen,
dilute and stir what should now rest.
Nor need you beat her for a fraud.
We all use props. A tic, a fear,
a stammer, can grow hard as board,
then fall apart and disappear.
But you may hold in thought the day —
ending who knows what span of days? —
she chose to throw her prop away,
and found that there was no such place.