What I am afraid of

The space between the hedge

and the house. Steep slopes

and spiders. What you murmur

yes to in your sleep.  Dead bolts

and dead batteries. Hour glass

shapes and the way sand moves

through small spaces. Waiting,

and waiting. The carcass with teeth,

the beach the day my tire blew.

The intangibility of these cells,

the gusto of my body’s body.
Mostly, how you sometimes look
at me and I have to look away.