Wednesday, April 07, 2010

Panic

And it's suddenly struck home once again--
The arrow into the heel of Achilles.
I'm violable, I'm nothing special, I'm real.

Thud.

Amphibian arrowheads sinking into my softest skin
Pry open my thief-knotted secrets,
Rendering me as pale and unarmored as the fabled beloved
shining, suddenly, with no Hephaestus to hide behind;
My glass wall is spear-shattered and my mind is left staggering
Across bedspreads and library stairs,
Miming the spastic flight-dance of a turtle with no shell.

It's too far to the sea.

Lying in the field I'm waiting for the gulls,
Welcoming coyotes,
Gathering sand.