I don’t secure the door locks more than once,
In homage to some threat that seems to hide
Round any corner. Make no mistake, though,
I, too, feel the breath that almost whisks
My cheek, or tickles down the recess of my neck.
My rituals are shrouded in facsimiles of confidence.
For all intents and purposes, they’re sprayed
With common sense: a touch behind the ear
Will keep the stench of consciousness away.
“I’m fine!” I’ll say, without the weight of pretense.
I keep a proper distance and maintain a polished form
When I prepare for sleep at night. I double-check the door.
I sometimes always walk outside to ascertain the state
Of all the yards, the neighbor’s lights… I never balk at
Critter’s eyes if they glow in the dark.
Which is to say, my rituals are ground in common sense.
I’ve found consistency reminds the things I might forget.
I won’t be cowed by superstition, or consumed by fear.
These daily check-ins with the nuts and bolts of staying safe
Suppress my apprehensions, keeping constitutions clear.