Poem: Almost Out

 

Almost Out

 

each breath a foresight

of shivers before an avalanche,

scared.

 

truth was the problem:

 

fear, delight and fury

and how they invited flight,

while calm and smile and peace

were the enemy of containment,

 

for they could not.

 

and it was all going to come apart,

exposed in shock as a head of lettuce

which turned out to be

a numb, hiding, traumatized mind--

and under its leafy, green, frail shields

 

a mad mad mad

wasp nest

 

and the masquerade of it all

this balancing act,

a seesaw of lungful angst

between the exhales and inhales and

avalanches and hurricanes and

 

this is what emotions were,

it seemed,

 

when they felt so right

and why everyone had to hide from them,

as if the heart had decided

justice could only erupt in brief bouts,

before it succumbed, once again,

to the fatalism of earth.

 

 

 

 

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