By Jude Casimir
step into the dim
the narrow
the slow, the crawling, the shadowy
and remember how in elementary school you’d have buddies,
how they’d ease the always-fear of stopping suddenly, suspended in space, getting yanked,
and having no one there to steady you or help you to your feet
or keep you tethered to the ground
lose yourself in the nostalgia
and lose yourself in the biting exhaustion,
knotted into your veins, caught between your synapses—
don’t worry, it’s never coming undone
lean for support on one of the walls that may or may not be closing in
lean into the possibility of getting crushed
and lose yourself in the dizzy you didn’t used to feel
slide because the wall’s not enough, slip through it
sink to the floor, sink through it
fold in on yourself, fight all the now-fears on your own
in ten years they haven’t evolved or dissipated,
they’ve only become part of you
and wonder, in the back of all this, feel it nagging,
why didn’t i just take the stairs
surely being a little out of breath is better than this,
splitting in half, shattering, melting all over public property,
giving the janitors more work than they need
surely feeling your legs leaden, your body rid itself of any stamina it’s got left, is better
and finally land on your floor,
start when you hear the ding, loud, strange, far away
yank yourself off the ground, fast and violent, before the doors reveal you
breathe, quickly compose,
step into the bright, the wide-open
except now you crawl, you drag
you took the dim with you
now panic over if anyone and everyone can see
now repeat on your way back down
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