Further off                                                                                          at the end of the tightrope

there is at least the semblance of safety –              enticing, luring the next step towards it

if I could just break the paralysis                     currently holding me freezer-cold, immobile.

 

Mean Girl spits out her gum, cackles told you so!

Always biting off more than you can chew.

Usual waste of space. You’re goin’ down!

 

Logically, brain says, the steps have to be taken-because this precarious balance you hold

                                                            is not sustainable-will waiver- will break- and you will fall!

And yet leading leg will not budge                                                             and I strain every sinew

aware of hushed audience in the round

all eyes watching this ridiculous I can do this, I’ll be fine stance

feeding on the building tension, just waiting-                                        and I’m flagging, I know it

feel roiling flutters within –                           as balance

slowly, slowly, ebbs and tips,

then hurtles me head-first like fledgling tipped over nest edge

to flounder in nosedive

turning and twisting through the air

wings frantically a-jerk, a-flap, fruitless

in the fear of fall-

and my only hope is that the net will hold-             that something remains unbroken,

that no-one here knows me,

 

Mean Girl laughs hysterically, gives herself hiccups

and raises her glass to me with a sneer

 

I should have known                                                         I wasn’t up to it.