My blood searches my skin, pining for air,
Beating in time on the thickening walls,
Evading the clock the body has set,
Bounding from the heart like a summoned friend.
(I think I am quiet, there are times where
My body seems still, and then the blood calls
With an urgency I have only met
In lovers’ vows that are about to end.)
I want to call on poems to join my day,
I want the tranquil, restful, calm, serene,
I want my racing thoughts to catch my breath,
My panicked stretch of life to find a way
To keep the peace, to try to intervene,
Until I own, the plot I trace is death.