flinching more and more lately,
tension becomes the natural state of
being,

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
illumination.

The muscles in my back hold expectations,
unprocessed and jagged.  I want to let go.

I don’t know how.

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