A New Kind of Panic


(A Poem)

By Lorna Ye

The narrow rectangle bar
is shrinking,
slowly, but steadily,
into a slim red,
a warning of imminent
and darkness.

In that pastel afternoon,
on that bench in dappled sunshine,
you wedge into
the shade of panic,
breath heavier,
heartbeat faster,
as the bar
is shrinking.

© 2019, Lorna Ye. All Rights Reserved