Like a demon
squirming beneath my taught skin,
I feel its jagged nails sink into
the muscles in my shoulders,
tensing them
as it sends sparks of pain through me—
my stomach churning fastidiously
as anxiety clamps my mouth shut like a bear trap.
A clambering heartbeat
is the only proof that
this body of mine is still
exhaling
as my frantic eyes
dart from
the phone
to this page
to the phone
again.
They tore the clothes right off you,
exposing you—and me.
The keys have fallen off the keyboard
of your flesh.
Like ripping duct tape
off of
bare skin,
they stripped you of your privacy
and left you snarling in the corner.
A beaten dog
whose foaming mouth
screams
revenge.
A flame may flicker within
the cage of your mind
as it rages,
but I am left in a tumultuous
fog,
biting my lip
as I silently stumble
in the dark,
searching for
the right thing to say.
The right thing to think.
I'm standing on uneven ground,
slipping into a torched
dress
whose fibers
have traces
of
panic and uncertainty.
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