Moments when terror bites just like a charming snake
of cobra-like proportions: I’ve never seen a cobra,
you see, so how could I possibly know what that terror meant,
or might look like to me?
Bent out of shape as I’ve been all these years,
that cobra snakes around me sinuously as I suppose
snakes tend to do (I’ve never seen a snake either, except in the
zoo near home; or at least the home
I currently am able to occupy …).
And that is my terror, when reversal in my mind takes over
the hindsight that bulldozes my senses
into flattened and unseemly defences which
crop, like Photoshop, the images of life I see and perceive.
Love should conquer all, and for me it’s everything
that ever kept my fears at bay: but what when
love is over – and you have no defences (neither air-to-air
nor sea-based ones) (a question of daftish analogy,
it’s true) – what then
might you do? What then could you do?
And is faith all that’s left when bereft of the attachment that
virtual life eventually detaches you