My body is taut
wound
alert.
My stomach is churning;
my mind, churning too.
My heart - quite pleased actually.

So we’ll meet
and talk.
There’s nothing that my head admires here,
but my heart, wager of insurgent, prolonged war against my head -
demands a chance.
So, in the spirit of embracing the whole me, accepting the whole me,
She will have that chance.

But my head
will be back in full force soon...
it seems they have to agree
before I can find my balance.