I am facedown on the living room carpet,
cat fur sticking to my lips,
rock salt from the treads of our snow boots
scoring my cheek.
I yank my lungs open
and heave out a scream,
the kind I have heard in horror films when a woman sees
she is moments from death, her mistakes barreling at her baring
fangs caked with old blood.
Does she hear the audience laughing?
Does she say to herself, “What did I miss?
