I’m still convinced
It’s daylight
Using my hands
Feeling around
Silencing self-talk
By the weight of no guarantees
contradictory atheist
Superstitious agnostic
Fingertips paint the room by the grasp of each object
Abated short breathing,
Broken record “you’re fine” inside, only pleading, and begging to be reassured
By the touch of surface, just one piece of this place
That’ll give your minds eye a picture of anything safe
Just a handle, a banner, a cold-metal latch,
Instead the tactile is overwhelmed by tastes and sounds that...