Breathless,lunch-less,my quaking bog bodyspills what it can,fills the room with fear. Arthur says,“You fear what you don’t know.Once you know itit will no longer besomething to fear.” He listens again and says,“I could be wrong,but I think this is aboutanger and power.” I exhale, smile.I can breath again.Imagine, all this crazy, scary shitwhittled downto two common nouns. from Excavation, poems by Janet Jerve published by North Star Press., 2013. Janet has taught poetry in Minnesota public schools and worked as a writer/editor for nonprofit organizations.
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