I made myself sit still

and let my brain run amuck…

thoughts circled like toilet water

over mundane things like

shoelaces and forks

and evil devices like

punctuation and bra hooks.

Images of a beating floated

and were hard to push down,

but I didn’t resist; there was no

glorious victory or surrender,

just another psychic bandaid in place.

There’s no peace in stillness

when the meditative turns tornado

and cows fly

over a speeding rainbow.

The hardest part

is sticking the landing.