Fear

Fear

Fear

No way to account for the erratic behaviour
of your erstwhile twin unless you accept that the voice
on the loudspeaker really does have a message
for you & you alone: Let
the glamour girl at the cosmetics counter
factor in your fear
& you’ll be free,
                             free to take
the department store escalator down to the sewer
where Angelo waits with a black-hulled gondola, a
skull, human, on its prow, a canopy of tattooed skin,
a rush of adrenalin as off you glide, city noise
gradually extinguished, nothing but the splash
of Angelo’s oar & the voice
at your ear: Let Angelo
factor in your fear
& you’ll be free,
                             free to take
the birdcage elevator up to the attic where mother’s
wedding dress waits in a trunk. Shake out the dust
& try it on. It fits perfectly as you knew it would
& of course you can wear it to the debutantes’ ball,
why not? Let mother
factor in your fear
& you’ll be free.