Worries Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Worries

It sat there
On the door

Not pen but, a writer
Not Taser but shaker
Not a knife but cutter
Not poison, but killer

Night of horror
Morning's fear

Exactly puppet show
Or movie Elm Street
Or heart in Pinocchio

Questions were waves
Dark, Endless is ocean

Is it his?
Did she go?
Is it for accident?
Can that be on studies?
On the edge, what is next?
A nightmare, no resting, sleepless,
In skies, vertigo kicked in butt, dizziness.

Downstairs
'Who is this? '
I show the card.
'Need T-4 for the file.'

It was her card
That's all but how I,
Made up, thought, ‘Stories'

Poet's brain is like mine; treasured stories.
He makes and, head first jumps in worries.