The Screw —Geyesa Mastrapa
do not Stand alone. He holds me. Firm between thumb I
And index, He presses me. I
do not
resist
His nudge And feel myself
Break the surface
Of my new
stronghold, fresh foundation. Slowly he drives deeper,
My Me
Deeper Into
still
my
destiny. easy. But with each twist Of his tool I lose freedom I lose breath. I lose life. I Lose Life. And I spin Into my own It is
Coffin. —Tanya Cochran
