Hiding
It’s to dance around,
to tiptoe.
To hug the sides
And fear the middle.
To need the wall at your back.
And without that behind,
Surrounded by maybe nothing,
It’s utter possibility.
I’m cloaked
And I fear.
It’s a man, naked.
Out in the wretched open
And I see him reaching out
And I think
He can’t be free.
His skin is his coat.
He’s still hiding, see?