untitled [poem 1938]

It feels like fear- heart pumping fast,
Like a lion in a cage-
Riding up to the throat, beating, beating.
No sweat but the pounding has reached
The ears. The impossible
Becomes the inevitable. Hearing is
Perfect but there’s no sound,
Just beating, beating.
The ground scratching at skin
(Remember when all scrapes needed were a
Superhero band-aid and a kiss?)
It’s too late:that’s the fear talking:it’s too late
Can’t think of anything else it’s too late
Nothing, it’s too late except for the heart, it feels like
It’s going to explode it’s too late and it’s
Beating, beating.

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