dispatches from crazyville

here’s a poem i wrote yesterday. it’s by no means a great, finished poem, but it’s my post for today.

I.

Fear plops down on my

heart like my heart is

a parkbench he was meant to

inhabit. But my heart is a balloon,

not a bench. I watch from behind a hedge.

He must weigh a thousand tons.

I can see his crack as he slurps down

a whopper, a milkshake,

grows more comfortable.

I hurdle the hedge, my body

a battleax, and hack into

his flesh, thick as a redwood

with time and rich food. I chop with

wild panic for days, alone,

but Fear does not budge.

I collapse. Face to face with Fear, I see

a trillion year old baby

still waiting

to be loved.