A pinch to the back of the neck

intuition

diving into the tangible, the visible

to shout us awake

skin starts its crawling alarm

begging us to stop

to come to attention

like all of the baby hairs

up and down the arms

standing upright

a claxon sounding in our bodies

meant to set us alert

against the threat coming towards us

left as a cliche

someone walking over our grave

survival ignored

instinct scoffed away

as we remain asleep – Caroline A. Slee