There is a twitch to me
Buried under my skin
There are moments
I am still
But underneath
I sit minutely shaking
And I could not
Tell you why
It happens
Only that it has
As long as I can
Remember.

Sometimes it’s a spasm
A contraction of
Too many muscles
To ignore
Too many to stay still
Like a cold breath
On the back of my neck
There is no subtlety in this
I feel I am shaking off…
Something
I've never quite been sure
What exactly it is.

The saying goes:
“Someone is walking
over your grave”
For every unexplained shiver
And sometimes I wonder
If somewhere they built a sidewalk
Over my grave.