Drop it Like a Bitch
You once asked if I had more courage than fear?
I asked you for more time to answer.
You didn’t insist on
who you thought I was, and that—
was fresh. But isn’t each lover a mirror?
You taught me fear was a weapon
I turned on myself, and true friends are like whiskey
without the hangover.
I used to gather smiles like dead suns, or rather,
I had a small habit of collecting expensive
friends with thin linings—
A friend like an inside-out banana
A friend like a ball of wool
A friend like a used needle
This is how you sage a spackled past: drop the hand
only one is holding. Trust me, fear inflates the
value of what we clasp.
So I was alone on an old stone bridge when a van
slowed in a crackle of gravel
and blocked my path. He had a knife
and a mask. Sanity is the surety of courage,
or so we begin. I left fear with the other fripperies
for water lush as bathtub gin.
Shari Crane’s poetry appears in The Light Ekphrastic, bottle rockets press, and Beechwood Review, among other places. She lives on Coronado Island.