Eating Sausages

My feet tread the ladder

Of a brittle spiders web.

Swollen hands and bleeding feet

Grab each new moment in turn

With trembling disbelief.

My innards gorge on themselves,

Fed by doubts and insecurities.

But I can’t deny the steel hook

As it teases me from the shadow and

Into an new dance,

When I can’t even walk.

© Ester Spears