By Dale Champlin
After I move out of here—
if I make it—
I want art, laughter and music.
What is the term for the terror
of being alone in a huge open space
something like an asteroid
traveling at the speed of light
through vast emptiness?
I might tumble—a fear so pervasive
that at times I find myself
crawling across the pine floor.
Even then I might encounter a scorpion,
a dozing rattler, or a black widow.
While upright I fear walking on gravel,
crossing the road, going up the stairs.
My shoulders suffer debilitating pain.
I have an awful sensation in my spine.