a chill creeps up my spine
fingering each vertebrae
as an involuntary shudder washes over me
eyes fixed on yellow, a strip of color
bright and cheerful in any other place
but not here
some lines are meant to be crossed
but not this one
with a voice that screams "stay away from the edge"
my stomach lurches forward
gripped with unsteadiness
a vertigo sensibility, and I wonder . . . . . how many see that line before they cross it
Linking up with Poetry Jam.