"Is This What You Fear."
Taking the fire on as clothing, the figure
in the window, rescue, watching will not belong.
Take the deep breath, it will be like succumbing, the death
you've almost longed for.
The stone.
Perhaps it will happen when you are far from home.
Wife.
The familiar silences between.
You will be telling lies across the table to people you cannot
love, as one would not talk to a stone which does not care.
Is this what you feared?
The sudden quiet of the holiday, air trembles at the edge.
Your legs smash pavement, condemned to run forever,
into the truth you longed for.
This living, this never reaching home.