Troffea Confessional by Kale Hensley (Lucent Dreaming Issue 13)

In July 1518, a woman whose name was given as Frau (Mrs.)
Troffea (or Trauffea) stepped into the street and began dancing –Britannica

I forgot the broom
(do I mourn these
split yellow hairs)
forgot the child who
cannot tell persimmon
from breast forgot
the husband (what was
a husband) I followed
the sound of my fat
two feet (oh earth
familiars) I followed
my blood’s wind silly
down to the city street
swollen with suffering
(by feces by poverty)
I followed the cobble
stones until the need
stepped out of me (who
am I) stepped in pairs
in thistled agony stepped
around bodies dropping
to drumcries to pipers
(have you ever heard this
kind of music) I danced
till day ripped off its eye
lids till David looked
like a housefly gyrating
(on meat) we danced
ourselves from whose
to what (for who for
what) I danced till
my shoes (shivering
blood) could not be read
by any god as an (I
love you)


Kale Hensley is a West Virginian by birth and a poet by trade. When they are not writing, they sideline as a coffee shop medievalist.
T: @thelocalamazon | I: @localamazon

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