Nothing in "Flicker" tells us exactly what the speaker is afraid of, and that is part of its power. All we get is the fear itself, growing day by day while life moves on without offering any answers. The speaker seems stuck in waiting, unable to find relief or explanation.
The poem lives in the body. Eyes sting "like wasps against my thoughts," heartbeats count down toward a "speedy execution," and sweat runs over an "exposed jugular vein," an image that makes the speaker feel like prey, open to attack. Even breathing feels wrong: air fills "the holes in my lungs," as if something inside has been hollowed out. The final line, "The shaking never ceases," offers no resolution.
The mood is tense, claustrophobic, and panicky. The short, broken lines mimic a racing pulse, and the poem reads like anxiety caught mid-attack, with the title suggesting something unsteady, like a light about to go out.