An Anxious Song
The poet’s life is overpowered by her anxieties that seem to fetter and bind her in imagined death. But, her Muse magically destroys the imaginary worms on her plate and snakes at her feet and makes her whole and robust once again.
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A shadow in the slanted mirror;
An eagle soaring in the sky,
That I catch in the reflection of a table.
My own shadow under a faint streetlamp;
The shape of a snake hissing at my feet.
Worms appear in my plate,
And I begin dissecting, deconstructing.
Am I eating worms?
Am I stepping over snakes?
Dreams plague me as if I’m watching ugly films
Throughout the night.
Half-awake; half-dead.
Evening walks turn into sky-watching,
Searching for shapes.
My heart thrashes.
Eats the worms,
Watches the shapes,
Imagines the snakes.
Until I have to sit down and deconstruct;
Battle against a blank sheet.
People ask me why I write?
Well, people must ask each other why they don’t.
I write my anxieties.
Each of my imagined deaths.
All these ways I could have died.
They never come –
The shapes, the snakes,
The shadows at my feet.
I turn around and I wait.
A woman embraces me,
Takes me home.
She is I.
