Fear?
I
fear
nothing
walking alone
on a deserted street
heels click on the pavement
behind me
not my own
spiders in the woodpile
disturbed by activity
scurry in fright
or stand in defiance
their defenses apparent
shadows on the wall
coat draped on a chair
sinister intruder within
tree branches in the wind
lurking voyeur without
broken railing on a bridge
nothing beneath me
that supports
the idea of crossing
car spread-eagled in air
empty house
anticipating an arrival
that never comes
silence spreading
its muffled roar
okay
so I lied
© 10/17/99 Pat Hornsby Crochet