Poem-A-Day #324 : To My Sick Body

To My Sick Body

It is difficult to think with congestion in your face
you can f e e l the styrofoam thickness of the tubes within you
your heartbeat thrumping on the pillow

This is your blood in your veins and it is making sound

We are so resilient
our bodies take the endless radiation of days
manage to up and down stairs and cycle our habits like whoa

But when things fall apart          they do so spectacularly

They crystallize every mistake ever made and cough
them into a mirror at 3 AM
our bodies turn on us so quickly that they cannot make the turn fully

And they will crash in their haste

Will erupt into fever and pitch and fall into a depth of exhaustion
that will leave them in a state of need that only we ourselves can deal with

Poem-A-Day #198 : Sonnet for the End of Days

Sonnet for the End of Days

The earth is awake

Opens itself all over then leaves the mouths to hang open
like old wood doors and gates that will not shut in their swollen frames

It Venus flytraps - honeys the corners of its lips

The earth is hungry

All that melting has it in a bulking mood
pre-gaming the workout the salts of bodies will electrolyte it

It is not content to feed on the constant churn of slow-moving rock
or the bursting of dead bodies into it

The earth is needing is in heat is feral it cannot even deal right now

The grinding within is the sound of teeth mid-nightmare
is the refusal to smooth itself the refuting of self

Negation and scorched salting

The earth is a death-throe from knocking itself out