Reserves

Between pleasure and trepidation, 
        the tongue's anticipation of sweet-

mess versus the sudden burst of bile. Between
        fight and flight, the crackle of

neurons firing in the brain. But everything else
        in the in-between cannot be only flyover

country. Sometimes you are oblivious even to 
        yourself, until a shadow falls between

you and the light, until unexpected danger
        presses its thin blade against your throat

and whispers Give me everything you've got. 
        People draw their curtains close. Street

lamps flicker. What will you pull out for a weapon
        that was waiting for just this moment?