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  • terror

    terror is terror
    and terror 
    is me
    staring back at myself
    looking down at my shadow
    what have you done? she cries. 
    nothing, i reply. 
    nothing at all
    there's nothing here
    but a bed
    and a chair
    so i sit and listen
    cars and children screaming
    laughter and still i don't move
    nothing at all.

    i like to dream my reality 
    and when i sleep i live my
    days since they're easier
    to grasp
    i like to paint myself 
    and watch the colors run
    together
    i like to see myself
    in technicolor swirls
    but it all ends up mud, black
    and white or
    nothing at all.

    when it creeps up
    from behind
    like that. 
    it really loves to 
    do it, you see
    once i screamed right
    in its face
    it went away
    for a long long time
    but I don't really feel like
    screaming
    now, screaming at
    nothing at all.

    -margaret elaine wolf, 1995

  • penny

    throat tight with anticipation of
    tears
    they don’t come
    you never came to find me
    and now i’m lost
    wandering around like
    a child
    crying for her mother
    but the mother lies within…
    i stopped having your dreams
    but sometimes i think
    that I am really
    who I thought you were,
    waiting
    whistling keeps me from
    hearing my own thoughts
    and my fear keeps me from
    seeing the truth
    myself as a flower
    myself as a bird
    myself as another
    myself as nothing
    clawing at my stomach
    tearing it open to find
    nothing inside
    cold my fingers
    and my chin
    cold like you became
    when you inhaled
    too much smoke
    but I was the one
    who was coughing
    but the pain foregoes
    the peace
    the calm after the
    storm
    and it will soon stop raining
    inside of me
    and i will leave this all behind
    with the penny i
    gave you
    for your thoughts.

    -margaret elaine wolf, 11.8.95

  • petals

    not really here
    just locked in your
    memory
    but with a touch i
    come alive again
    the mind expands
    to enfold the
    mystery
    the one whose eyes
    are so much like
    yours
    but whose heart
    can never be
    left behind in a haze of shadows
    the milky-white
    distance
    enfolds
    between us
    like a faint memory
    brought about by a taste
    liquid pouring all around encloses
    me in silent
    bliss no longer
    do i take
    of myself
    only to find that i
    am still alone
    holding the petals of the love
    you once had for me
    long ago

    - margaret elaine wolf, 1995