Jillian's mother cites a historical trend of
dissolution between terror and worship
by Christin Call
Impatient with the shopping cart,
bending one to leg-hole ensnared the other,
and I, forcing back the knee, lifted
as helicopter rescue your scraped cap panic
and lost shoes. Same the turtleneck, long
smothering tunnel of no escape, my pulling over-
stretching wide the fabric for least
distrubance. you then small and anxieties alike,
loomed insurmountable
shrill cries from the lungs, body-shaking
the terror of the deathcloak.
Now the worry, I do,
outgrown, diminished, careen the highways
upwards 70 and not a flinch to muster.
