Premonition

A poem by Jessi Harrison 

There is nothing left to see.Tarred wings of a blackbird. A goldfinch. A mourning dove. There is a bay of frozen waterthat traps a pier in moment. I sitnext to it, waiting for movement.In the middle of winter, I unearth all flooring from the house. Wrench nailfrom board until all walkable surfacesfade. Stuff the mailbox with letters lackingpostage. Make breakfast out of eggshells& salt.There is nothing like the time we waste. Spent years that consume our veins.The minuscule moments that darkeneyes, & solidify reaction. I have dreams of a Cold War. Of weapons composed of silence. I saw my death. It was a fleeting panic. Glassy eyes glaring up from under a solidsurface. An escapade of belligerence.Falling through a weak spot of ice,& getting trapped.   I put my hands out, as if begging for freedom more than breath. As if the thought of dying wasn’t terrifying as much as the thought of standing still.  Featured image CC0 (modified): Manfred Antranias Zimmer