Poetry — June 4, 2014 11:35 — 0 Comments

Another Way of Saying Fear – Alex Gallo-Brown

The morning unfolds today
with a slowness
that seems rare.
At some point, my life began
to take on shape, texture
I did not anticipate.
Take the espresso cup
on the desk.
Take the espresso,
the beans,
the grinder,
I don’t care.
Take your judgment, your
critique, and crumple them
into a ball.
A long time ago, I ceased
being concerned with
other people’s opinions,
a statement that’s untrue
demonstrably, yet one
I repeat to myself
most mornings.
Which is another way
of saying fear.
Fear of other people’s
hell, of the eternity of self
dissolving, of the angry suburban
dad I saw shouting
at the TV screen yesterday
while I watched
football in a bar.
(I wanted to do to him
what I do to you
most days at home:
wrap him up,
tell him everything
is going to be all right.)
Fear of, what else? My life
collapsing again
against the end
of each day.


Born and raised in Seattle, Alex Gallo-Brown currently lives in Atlanta. His essays and poems have appeared previously at Salon, The Rumpus, The Collagist, Everyday Genius, and more. Find him at www.alexgallobrown.com.

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What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney