An Irrational Fear

I have an irrational fear,
Of losing my poetry,
Of waking up one day
And finding that words have failed me
And that where there was once a spasm of verses,
Is now a vacant grey.

I have an irrational fear,
Of waking up every day,
In a one bedroom apartment.
And spending all my days
With a broken bucket,
And tattered curtains
And a rug for a bed
And no blanket.
And earning just enough
To buy three cigarettes.

I have an irrational fear,
Of waking up one day,
And finding that you are
But like my father.
And you punch and kick me
And pull my hair,
Like my father did with my mother.
And that one day you will
Rape our daughter
Like my father raped me.

I have an irrational fear,
Of waking up one day
Close to death,
Twenty two years from now,
And finding that they were the same-
These decades and the ones before them.
Same in:
The terror, the trauma, the tears,
The violence and the loss.

I have an irrational fear,
Of dying before my death.

art by Leslie Ann O’Dell

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2 thoughts on “An Irrational Fear

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