poem about fears
this morning
the little things scared me
i remembered
i’m afraid
of the dark and
dirt under my fingernails
stepping on thumbtacks
and the windows of my car getting stuck
in the down position
or the up position
i remembered that i’m afraid of rats and
cheese aged over 100 days
roaches
microwave rays
i’m afraid of potatoes
because i see
a similarity
between them and me: i have too many eyes
work in disguise
have felt the earthy rot
from within
i fear i’m too noisy
and then {i fear} I’m leading too quiet a life and
i’m afraid
of that man
who enters daily
through my eyes
{he could leap out of bed and never return}
i’m afraid of dying
in an absurd place
near a tobacco stand or
on a street corner where
old people linger.
i’ve a fear of drowning
being held upside down
under water, tangled in seaweed
and ocean. i’m afraid
of dawn’s outstretched arms
and the morning which screams
a promise between overlapping teeth
I’m afraid that
“Chicken Little” was right
{and the sky is falling}
i’m afraid no one will keep
the door open for me and
i’m afraid of being alone on the other side of the door.
i’m afraid of standing
beside buildings, so tall
not because they might fall
on me, but because cigarette smoke
and hate
drift upward
choke the sky
i’m afraid of the way my heart dangles carefree
on a string
and i’m afraid
that if you look in my eyes
you might see some ancient madness there
i’m afraid of being wrongly accused
afraid that i haven’t suffered nearly enough
but mostly i’m afraid of
my right hand, the way it guides me. It is
much older than i, comes down gray as
an eyeball
is godless
and without it
i am not here, never was.
My mother once told me
that i should
never tell anyone
what scares me the most
that they would surely
use it against me
so if you ask me
if i am afraid,
i will deny everything.
Truly, I am afraid of posting something that is pretty controversial. I am afraid that I will lose subscribers. I am going to do it on 3/13. But I’m really scared. Tell me what you are scared of.