Panic Attack

You've fallen through ice. Above you men
with ladders are sidling to where you fell in

to this cold cathedral with its shattered dome.
Ice has you in its picture frame

for a full-length portrait but minus breath.
Light doesn't help. Safety's underneath,

a little deeper, if only you dare
look up to the jagged dark. That's air,

shouts, dogs barking, warm hands and ropes.
Aim for the dark. It's your only hope.

Copyright © 2003 Gwyneth Lewis All rights reserved
from Keeping Mum
Bloodaxe Books / Dufour Editions
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission