in the funnel
of perfection
my addiction
blurs the world-
running
narrows to a
thin vibration
plucked and humming
mosquito-fine
only I can hear
what’s almost comfort
sets off
something
whispers
to my inner ear
I don’t stumble
so’s they’d see
just feel my
direction
skews
a line’s breadth
devastation-
failure-
and a child’s
unformed craving
-hovers
unbelonging
raw edge of fear
Photo: Claire Doble