Tightrope

Fire alarm goes off,
insides turn to swirl
of milkshake.
Panic, shock, fear…
loud clanging,
nerves tensed
like strained silk.
Mall lockdown;
retail prisoner
in worry, heart 
in my throat. 
(Feel like falling,
I’m aquiver
  in cold wind…)
…attack against
peacefulness,
against all
serenity fancied
in a morning of 
hammock laze,
or sleep without
dreadful dreams;
(awake, though,
and on my feet,
yet relaxed and
balanced…with
muscles
  kneaded
  instead
    of gnawed.)


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
12-1-19