The Eyelid’s Rebellion

I’m standing in the frozen food aisle,

trying to manage a customer smile.

But my left eye is jumping, a rhythmic twitch,

like a wire is frayed or a bad nerve switch.

It’s a frantic bird trapped under the skin,

beating its wings to let the light in.

I look in the glass of the vegetable peas

and watch my own face fail to be at ease.

I can’t make it stop with a thought or a prayer,

it’s a private tremor that everyone can share.

Just a glitch in the meat, a small, steady thrum,

waiting for the rest of my nerves to go numb.