anxiety attack in bedroom while everyone leaves the party

Manuscript-in-progress: "Lessons", Poems

the arm
is not yours. neither the bubbling
stomach—the black room       the voices
from the next room      a hundred
miles away        the curving lines between
the shaking the slip the strobe
the bed                          the floor
the bed’s squeak                      the bending
of glass the light           jump now
motherfucker out the window pull
back the blinds kick
it open all open everything open
run a corkscrew into your arm
motherfucker do it       don’t
do it      don’t
sit still
the feet over      the edges the slip
the arm count again      to ten
to ten   one                     two                    thr—
again—how close                       am i
please                  safe? please
the arm
the bed
here      with this shaking body