Pulled up, messed up like a picture
In crayon, outside the lines
And without music
Like a musician who
Forgets his notes
On his string bass.
An about-face
And a pink slip
Politely.
Quietly
The side trip
Into cold space
Almost erased
And anecdotes
Put pieces back, all through
The one who's too sick
To realize she is fine
And suddenly, uprooted, she's the victor.
postscript
A little bit of word craft, focused more on the structure than the content. Though, as always, a distinct meaning lurks in the bushes.