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Migraine

MIGRAINE.

Pressure – bright diamonds
glaring fierce from cat-eyes
in the road and sun.

Hearing my blood pound
and ring in my ears
like a mosquito:
whine and pound and drum
the inside of my skull.
My eyes, too slow to duck,
let light pour in and flood
behind my forehead,
hot and still and strong
as the wretched sparrow
keens and trills its highest song
right outside my window.
And I, I hide in the coolest room
covering my head with gloom
cursing the cracks in the curtain,
those thin lights of light
like fiery thread
from a sun too close to my
patched and fraying head.

Were it not for these
radiant ice picks cleaving
through my temples,
I could revel in this
fierce bright world.

4/28/2008 – that was one bad headache…

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