THE ACROBAT (I AM/AM I?)
Anxiety’s like a tightrope/
That swings in time to the/
Wind’s steady movements./
Below my bare toes/
Which curl tightly around the/
Thickness of the thread,/
People crane their necks/
Up, up, up,/
Squinting against the/
White hot glare of the sun,/
Waiting to see if I will fall/
Down, down, down./
I wasn’t trained for this/
Yet the words/
Performance Day are marked/
In dripping black ink/
In every slot of my calendar./
Who was I before all of this?/
It seems as if/
I can’t remember a time before/
Any misstep meant sudden death./
Am I destined to be the acrobat forever?/
Am I?/
Am I?/
Am I?/
Can someone just cut this tightrope?