Sitting still and waiting
for my phone to do its thing
to let me know
that we're still okay.
Oh my god. I haven't felt seconds
this steeply threaded
in so long. Don't let me
tell myself I have lost
again
over events I could have
handled better. Not now,
not over what seemed like
eggshells made of cast iron.
Don't make me wear it.
I will, I swear I will,
but don't
make me wear it without
your word in my ear
telling me I have to.
Panic, panic, panic,
running off to the far corners of a pen
like fire licked pigs, still breathing,
still bordered, still picketed.
