On occasion, I can breathe control,
Remembering who I was.
It may happen
When the earthquake of my heart
Presses me to see without
An avenue to deflect,
Pushes me over the line where I
Then plunge
Into all of my truths—they catch me.
Some may be things I want
To keep asleep,
But when control is guiding my hand
Steady, I can peek at them
A little longer.