Patrick Ryan Frank

THALASSOPHOBIA
          —The fear of the ocean.

That there are depths you cannot know
          and you could sink forever,
                    the water below

opening only to other water,
          unlit undertow,
                    movement, tighter

circling shapes surrounding you,
          all unknown edge and bitter
                    hunger, tooth

or tentacle or fin, all black
          approaching through the blue,
                    the clinching wrack

of struggle, the final giving up
          to the pressure and the dark,
                    that patient grip,

panic burnt down to a dull
          and thoughtless ache, the slip
                    into the pull

of nowhere, bearing no hate, no wrath,
          holding nothing at all,
                    not even your breath.

…

NYCTOPHOBIA
          —The fear of night or darkness.

I’ll stay awake, stay up all night,
Keep wide my eyes and cocked my ears;
I’ll keep the whole damn room within my sight,
The phone in my left hand, a gun in my right;
I’ll lock up the doors and windows tight,
Let no one, nothing get in here
Until the shadows disappear,
Until the morning brings a light,
Until I can see what I should fear.

–from Rattle #26, Winter 2006