Ode to morning pain

You live within its winnowing circle.

a dead baby in my cough”
“a vaulting pole crushed within my spine”
“scalding bits of broken glass inside my knee”
“electric shocks delivered with a branding iron”
“incompatible with having a self”
“like nothing you could imagine”

You take medicine apart and find its wings,
hidden under the carapace thorax. You can
no longer imagine being devastated by death.

This entry was posted in human suffering, poetry stuff. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Ode to morning pain

  1. Whoa! Those are scary phrases. But, yes, then I feel the wings.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s