It is still too easy to get worried
about a tick sized stranger
buried in the nook of your arm
as we study strategies to remove it
trying not to crush it into releasing
any revenge into your system
it becomes the entire slippery world
too big to discover or draw out
we cannot speak its language
or know what it wants from us
we come to band aid
terms with it in truce
but our eyelids are still fighting
to stay open
refusing to surrender to our
swelling need for infallibility
Susan Shea is a retired school psychologist who grew up in Brooklyn, New York and now lives in a forest in Pennsylvania. So grateful to be a full-time poet now, she has written more than 800 poems in the past two years. Within that time, her poems have been published in or are now forthcoming in Chiron Review, ONE ART, Invisible City, Ekstasis, MacQueen’s Quinterly, Green Silk Journal, The Write Launch, The Gentian, Across the Margin, October Hill Magazine, Litbreak Magazine, Poemeleon, Beltway Poetry, Foreshadow, The Loch Raven Review, and others. Within the last few months one of her poems was nominated for Best of the Net by Cosmic Daffodil, and three poems were nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Umbrella Factory Magazine.
