122. My son chirps a stuffed Steller’s Jay at me and says, “I dance you!”
123. I dance like the birdsong is chiming my tendons; cymbals and bells.
124. When watching my face speak on video, I notice how my head twitches in fear like a bird.
125. I don’t realize I am that scared; that every sound is an alarm inside of a glass lung.
126. Glass imploding or exploding into the grass and rolling naked with eyes closed.
127. Drums beat inside the cathedral of want and I don’t pay the priest to calm me.
128. I swallow a pill every morning which places a brace on my heart, or a muzzle.
129. I can still see you as I hold back the world.

Scott Ferry helps our Veterans heal as a RN in the Seattle area. He attributes his writing skill to listening to rain fall upwards from the bottom of a fictional aquarium. His most recent book, each imaginary arrow, is now available from Impspired Press More of his work can be found at ferrypoetry.com.