I was all plug and spark, a flick of a wrist and perfect pitch, all passion and promise. Now I am surrender and slack, all weary black dog and beaten, waiting for the end. A lemon bitten not juiced, the sour delivered direct. Seeds stuck in my teeth. This is the feast of the browbeaten. It took a lot to snuff that fire, but this world has hushed me to ember. My body tenses in fight or flight. Joy used to be my companion. Sad now how much it startles. -Donna Vorreyer Vorreyer