Maps II
here’s how I map my relationship with fear:
relax my bones, let them float like lily pads in the ponds of my passion
be still so I can feel the zing, the subsequent spasm of bowel believing
it needs to panic, because every part of my body is alive with a desire
to believe, because every location is elevated with textures of narrative
even if the stories lilt and lean in from centuries ago, from grandmother
who almost drowned and great-grand father who sucked bottles
fear, the master delineator, is the maker that surveys the spectacles even
as it drafts them… is the linen layer foundation of me
I relax my bones, let them float like lily pads in the ponds
of my passion, because bones are porous &
when I’m supine, sometimes my fingers
fist into fear’s mouth, & he chokes
a little, and we laugh, sputter
a new road
crush the
compass
VANESSA SHIELDS 