a poem by angel hench

There’s this anxiety that wakes me up with a gasp in the mornings, this feeling like I’ve been under water or in a shallow grave and just woken up.  In the pit of my stomach, in my insides, in the holy gut of me I know that I’m not where or who I’m supposed to be so my body speaks and I ignore it much like the child who doesn’t want to hear what their mother says puts their hands over their ears and then stands crying when it all goes wrong, that is what the gasp of fear is telling me.