she folded
her hurt
in half

wrapped
it up
in tissue paper

placed it
gently
inside a box

tied up
the box
with ribbons

attached
a series of
sturdy padlocks

before
locking it
in an iron safe

which
she carried out
to her car

to drive it
120 miles
to the shore

where
she hired
a boat

to take
her cargo
to a land

with
an unimaginably
vast desert

where she dug
a hole
twenty metres deep

in which
she buried
it all

and built
on top of it
a house, a palace,

the streets of a city
which shimmered
in the afternoon sun

and when
she got home
she found her hurt was still there,

folded in half,
wrapped up in tissue,
and she supposed

the box
must have had
a hole in it.