It's Here

 It’s here, 

I lift my foot up and stretch it out

Placing it softly, 

Silently on the ground 

Cautiously not making a sound.

 

I struggle to swallow.

I tighten my jaw 

Praying, hoping my throat 

My swallow, my stepping forward

Won’t be heard.

The spiders are crawling 

In my belly.

Competing with the butterflies

In their attempt to warn me,

To Caution me 

To Save me

From it.

Why the hell do we call them butterflies?

They don’t eat butter?

I prefer the Spanish, mariposa
Or the French, papillon.

Those words flutter in my mouth.

What! Oh  shit, Stay focused

Forget the damn mariposa!

No! No! No!
I mustn’t cough
I don’t dare make a noise.

Not now, not when it is near.

The moon is burning away 

Going up in orange flames

Can a fire really reach that high?

To burn the moon from white to orange?

I rub my eyes trying to see

Where to place my foot

Where to take my next step

So as not to attract it.

So as not to let it find.

So as not to let it know

Where I am.

What was that?

I heard a grumble or a tumble

What made that noise?

Could it be it,

Already knowing where I stand,
Already waiting to pounce
And squeeze every ounce
Of air out of me

Before it bites off my head

And crushes my skull?

And then gouges out my heart

For a delectable dessert?

Who is feeding me these horrible thoughts
Of my own potential horrible death?

Why did I agree to come backpacking

When so many forests are being cooked?

There hasn’t been anyone killed
By a bear or a cougar 

In a long long time.
Has there?

I don’t want to be the first one
This year?

Why did I drink that beer
It wasn’t even cold
And now I have to go pee
And walk in the dark,

Knowing that it is out here
Waiting, licking its chops

Listening for the sound
Of my peeing near a tree.