Tuesday, May 7, 2013


soc poem on the subject of chronic migraines...


breath wrapped around fist
pulled taut, stolen, yanked clean out
behind drag a lake of blood,
two flutters of mud trailing by
thin ropes still swollen or sighing
body mine and body empty

wherever it is that I go
when i go
completely away
when i sit
below sea level
barnacle-kneed and believing that
emergence involves limb losing
this lake of drill bits
i cuddle up to old bread
i come back a little livid
out of focus
bits of hell still
locked in lash

No comments:

Post a Comment