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.

Bio:

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,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
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