I am carrying my body
Or maybe it carries me
A vessel of muscle and respiration
Of heartbeat and headache
Lifting me
From a place of relative peace
Into that river of fear and happiness
And sensation and tension and annoyance and excitement
That I call
“My day.”
It lifts me, and I drag it
Wheezing and protesting
Toward duties and desires
Straining toward outcomes.
In every cup of joy
a drop of heartache
A tang
Continually reminding
of the poison in the well.
In every breath of life
the wheeze of death
A rattle
Marking the slow march
of every endeavor into decay.
In every heartbeat of courage
the skip of fear
A moment
Of sheer terror
that the talons will close.
I had a sudden realization the other day: I write poems, and those poems have a place on Story by the Throat! I posted one here once, but I generally share them elsewhere on the web. I’m going to start sharing them here as well, when I feel they’ll enrich the mysterious and wonderful cloud of what SbtT! is all about.
I wrote this one a couple months ago:
It began at Midsummer.
Midsummer week the labor ended
Midsummer eve the cars stopped dead
Midsummer day the laptop overheated
And time slowed
The universe paused
And I exhaled
And found I could breathe
For the first time in years.
Recent Comments