Friday, July 6, 2018

A Poem By Arlene Antionette

She’s claustrophobic and needs
the horizon to release her from her
self-imposed prison. Today, the walls
bear down heavier than usual. Her fears
wrap themselves around her like another
layer of skin. Shaky hands cover her eyes
as she cries. Chills and hot flashes alternate
in senseless patterns throughout her body.
Panic ties knots in her gut. Sounds of moaning escape
her trembling lips, reverberating off her ribs. Now
at her breaking point, she silently prays for help
as she yearns for freedom from her fleshly cell. Her
breathing slows as she is close to passing out. With
unsteady hands she reaches out, to nothing,
and aches for just a glimpse of the horizon.

 By Arlene Antoinette
Bio: Arlene writes about life in all its glory (the good, the bad and the ugliness of it). Additional pieces may be found at GIRLSENSE AND NONSENSE, Sick Lit Magazine, Boston Accent Lit, The Open Mouse and Neologism Poetry Journal.

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