by Christine Caligiuri
Saturday, November 09, 2002
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Have you seen Fear?
No? Nor have I.
But she often creeps up behind me
To run her fingers through my hair.
It prickles and I cringe,
Awaiting some barely perceived anticipation.
Again, she quietly arrives carrying a record of doubts,
Telling of future dreads...
Cares I dare not own that gnaw and tear at my heart.
I cannot say why she tempts me so,
I see her but hazily.
Yet, I invite her anew to my presence,
Then beg her to exit post-haste.