PTSD
fine body hairs twitch
preparing for something
past feel of foil clenched
between gnashed teeth
tungsten singed to hip socket
powered by whipsaws
controlled by unseen men
everyday limbs shake
rusty nails scrape
against each nerve
flies swarm and buzz
but never get out
canto i, at the borderlands*
stopped
no sky
only a dense lost
forest
savage
arduous
then fear extreme
death bitter
there
what I saw
I entered
sleepy-faced
at the wrong pass
in heart-
terror
dead-ended
the body
like a light
lost
turbulent
sadness
my mind
a top
in mid-turn
where no one
leaves
ill begins
a beast
with his shiny coat
dead-set against me
him crazed
by cravings causing
so many to live
in misery
I felt solid defeat
lost hope
the beast drove me
to the shadows
the sun stop
when I saw someone
alone
like a mirage
I called
take pity
ghost or
Virgil
rainmaker
I’m shaking with fear
he said
you have to take a different route
to pass through
stay behind me
your guide
to lead you through eternal
Hell pain
a second death of fire
poised at the edge
damned
*This is an erasure poem of Mary Jo Bang’s translation of the same Canto from the Inferno by Dante Alighieri.
Heather Quinn is a poet who lives in San Francisco. She is drawn equally to life’s light and shadows, and is awed by the indestructible force that burns brighter than shame. She has been published in Zoetic Press’ Nonbinary Review, Minnesota Review, West Marin Review, Rockhurst Review, and the Floating Holiday Magazine. Heather co-founded a peer-led poetry workshop, which has been meeting regularly since 2002.
photo credit: stephanie roberts Twitter Instagram SoundCloud
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 
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