Poem

Migraine

/ /

……….Unless the temples tremble,
this brain burns

few prayers, and this mind
……….minds no shiny Bible

……….when the kind God’s there.
It’s hurt that earns

attention. This hot
……….vein behind this eyeball

……….only learns alertness
by its pain,

and there’s a tender
……….tinder near this ear

……….whose nothing-nature’s
never won a name,

though now its livid suffering
……….proves it’s dear.

……….This hour’s dear
in which this brow’s an altar,

sweating gall
……….like gasoline to grease

……….the angry mass of me
in flames I’ll falter

out of when the graceful
……….burner’s eased.

……….An aimless grief then?
This head wouldn’t say so.

Something briefly smiths
……….its migraine into halo.