wrenching pounding in my neck
lights searing behind my eyes
my head must weigh twenty pounds
not counting the mane of hair
that twists and curls
right into my brain
which pulses and sends signals
of the most confusing content
I see walls bending
air moving
and the sky is a green hue
I taste granules of metal in water
and can hear plants growing
but I can’t seem to move my hand
so I look at it
– the left hand-
noting colors like on Munch’s bridge
mostly my hand is a light caramel beige
with bluish greenish undertones
with some pink and white and brown
and streaks of grayish yellow
but it still won’t move
so I note the way the skin hugs the curve of the bone
and how it all stretches and bends
when grasping something
when necessary
turning my head proves too much effort
pivoting brings on nausea
and I’m reminded I need to eat
any medicine that could possibly help
needs a food cushion
so I don’t throw up
but there’s not a damn thing I can think of
that doesn’t make me quake with dread
except
maybe toast would be ok
with a little butter to soften the crusty bread
and a little jam
so I don’t have to face yellow butter
and oh lord, yes, tea!
by all means a hot mug full
tea
brings so much comfort
just holding it
feeling it travel as I swallow
toast and tea bring me hope
that maybe this headache
will be fleeting
The Word Rummager 