All That Terror (grin) Provides the Thrill
And the worst of it
is standing there
knowing you all need to know
that I know you, care.
Larynx glued, immobilised,
breath choking off the apt word—
words big enough to leap
the chasm between us
have tumbled, their syllables
echoing long after
we break eye contact.
This is La Grande Peur
more masterful than Death,
binding lips, sealing off
all possibility of love
for all fifty of you, myself.
This paralysis cannot be
permanent. I must lose
my self now, take that step:
create, speak, surrender.
— Jennie Fraine
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