And see these straight lines, bound
my wavering, as if they could border
liquid and hold it

           in by rough will alone. I splinter
           into segments; rail against the frame
           like a tree with too-tight bark.

And see these hands raised up, to ward
the sunset's burn: my brows and lashes
flame, my scalp flows

           crimson. Even when I close
           my eyes, afterglow blazes
           through tight lids: there is no rest.

And see the passersby a million feet
too late and far away, still clothed
in disregard

           of wayward screams, carried on
           the gusts, or roiling surf, or falling
           through the cracks.

And see my startled face held up,

           and see my body bend.


Inspired by "The Scream" by Edvard Munch.