What’s in a Name?

Anxiety gives me anxiety.
The very word

Grabs you by the horns,
Wrangles you into submission.

A moth with black
Horsehair wings,

The flutter of a heartbeat,
Once static,
Now a deep sea tremor.

Anxiety,
Printed bold on the bow
Of a ship.

She is an empty vessel,
Her head
Just above the waterline.

Poe’s golden bug:
Once bitten,
Forever shy.

To itch
An old wound.

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