Copyright 2018

Anxiety on the Street Corner

Aja Hannah

She moved with calculated steps
silent, meticulous
Navigating the rising disquiet
crawling up her neck.

Inside she screamed
chords of despair
stretches of thin vibrations
swallowed in tracheal folds.

She stopped
to hold sinew together
to bottle the storm
to--at least--break apart evenly.

Slow and gasping breaths
Pulled apart pinched lips
splitting her inequitably
losing the mooring of clarity

Because she was
Red ambrosia in a flash bang grenade
Grenadine, pink and broken
and full and empty

Happiness, she saw
in the corner of her eye
a floater at the edge
Nearly gone.

Born and raised in Maryland, Aja Hannah is a writer, traveler, and new mama. She believes in the Oxford comma, cheap flights, and a daily dose of chocolate.