After Thom Gunn
Fear intrudes, nesting in that she
approaches in stillness,
housed in quiescent dreams;
unresolved questions and a battle
against a passage; manic hate for it.
fear is a headless viper thrashing around in her;
this morning – a faint whisper and at night – a loose
floorboard when you step on it. Have I done well enough?
Fear is what makes it hurt
an imperceptible cord around the neck, a cloak of terrible terror.
fear wears you just the way you wear fear.
