flinching more and more lately,
tension becomes the natural state of
Schrodinger’s flight or fight response (that
cat just never exits my
brain matter, such a palate for hard
uncertainty, fetal-position coiled, the spring
of false refuge.)
I want my face laid bare to the sun.
to be that unafraid, open to teeth as well as
The muscles in my back hold expectations,
unprocessed and jagged. I want to let go.
I don’t know how.