I yield, she is a formidable foe. Her slender hands proffer
a paper crown for the brow of my spinning silly head.
I often find her lurking in crowded rooms where sinister social circles giggle and hiss.
I spy her bearing down on me from the ceiling as I lay, hopeful
for sleep, in the quiet of my bed. She strangles me
in silence and hammers at my heart, careful not to leave a bruise.
I get pinned to a white washed wall and then splattered like bad art. I want to send her
soaring through the gaseous thin atmosphere, revel
in seeing her disappear. Too clever to be caught
she hides in my tear ducts, my adrenal glands, and in the drumming
inside my ears. She has been with me
all of my life.
© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019