Miles of warning signs,
and green ridge
horizons run out.
The gate opens,
and withered
to capacity.
I hide my eyes
behind tense lids.
I bow my head
and grab my legs
like a cannonball,
clench my jaw
like rubber on tar and steel.
I realized then more than ever,
the fear of fear itself.
I feel a palm
on my back,
Mom’s pacifying
We had crossed over.
A gasp for air
black tar
lungs fill
touch.
and firm
ground.
Contraposition 