Anxious by Beth Konkoski Some days my details shine out from beneath a microscope, turning invisible slights and germs into tackle dummies I must force to the ground. When I hurl myself and miss or feel their breathy waiting in the wings of my days, I prowl, wear a path through the carpet like any common zoo lion in the split shadows of his cage. It is the heat and flutter of an insect cloud building to eruption in my chest. Only screaming or tears, not even my daughter’s arms, will release me. Gyroscope Review 17 !