Curled up, foetal.
by sal carter
Every muscle in my body tensed against the earth.
Eyes clamped shut.
Arms rolled to my chest.
Nails biting into my palm.
The only moving thing is my eyes,
Rolling around inside my head.
Staring out at the world, rushing round me,
While I sit, still as a statue.
Stuck, hard as concrete,
Fingers stiff as sticks