I scream

I recognize, from afar,
the screams of my terror...
and the panic that plagues me
when I'm sometimes distracted.

It comes from nowhere,
like a long forgotten visitor
in the corner behind the refrigerator.

A sharp banshee of innocent terror
of those who kill chicken for Easter lunch.
With its moldy raspberry flavor.

Attached to the ankle by the ropes,
by the knots of the ropes,
by the fibers of the rope knots.
And the knuckles!

When I'm sometimes distracted
and panic hits me
with screams of horror
which I recognize from afar... very far away!