April 7, 2012
My strap slips off my shoulder
A blush slips on my face
My vivid pumps seem steeper
My shirt seems to dive lower
Inviting inspection
My denim shorts seem an inadequate defense
For the looks, the sighs and shakes of their heads
For the bodily migration
For the hunger in their eyes
The walls are closing in
The dark figures are a hair’s breadth away
Are they harmless
Or would they think it okay
To tear me apart
To take scraps of who I am
Every step
Every move I make
I am afraid
Of the form around the corner with sparkling eyes
They could be nontoxic
Or they could be virulent and noxious
They could be catching
They could catch me

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