End of the Rope, by E. F. Schraeder

You know the place.
That overdrive limbic imbalance puddle
of short breaths and pain.

It’s an inside out, nerve wrecked tangle of thoughts
where the brain skips logic, skims happiness
like a stone jumping a lake.
You know it will sink.

Remind me how it gets better so
I can tie your words into a string,
watch as they gather and curl.
How quickly language shapes a noose.

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Author of a poetry chapbook, Schraeder holds an interdisciplinary Ph.D., teaches and works at a library part time. Schraeder’s work has appeared in Dark Moon Digest, Allegro, Four Chambers, Glitterwolf, Slink Chunk Press, Hoax, the HWA Poetry Showcase, vol. III, and other journals and anthologies.  Find more online at www.efschraeder.com

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