It's hard to know anymore
What I'm really feeling
Dazed, detached,
I am hungry, I am scared, I am happy,

I am homesick.
Fingers -
Are they mine? -
Rumble and crack,

Twist, knuckles
Smack, and the
Anxious dance begins.
Bones roll together

Like an echo of
The churning in my
Bumbling stomach,
Lips purse

Eyes twitch.
I feel the shudder,
A beat,
And then the sob,

And hic and hic and hic
Hiccup.
Why am I crying?
The world is in my hands,

Tiny globe clutched and crushed
Between the relentless
Twisting of my fingers.
The world is in my hands,

Too small for me to get inside,
Too small to do anything but stare.
I fumble with my giant's hands.
Looking for a door,

A gate, a crack.
I come up empty.
And so I sit
And cry

And wait for an invitation -
A word, a touch,
A white square card -
That never comes, and never will.

The world is in my hands, but I cannot find the key.
-14/12/02, Diacofto

© Jess Fitzgerald, 2002