literature

A Headache

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Portmeirion's avatar
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Literature Text


A ray of bold, gold overhead light
pierces my eye like an arrow and
plants its jagged dart in soft gray matter
that’s already red and tender.
I wince, and that’s when
the air-conditioning roars to life,
a manic commotion of muscle cars
that batters both my ears in booming
throbs that rock and rattle my eardrums.
Then, three knocks at my bedroom door
are stones that strike me square on the right
temple. “Leemmee alone,” calls out a voice
(it must be mine) to turn away
the uninvited guest, since now I know
I’ll have to drop out of the world for
two or three good hours, at least.
The light keeps burning, and I stumble
upwards out of the recliner, swimming
through a haze of blazing incandescent
yellow hellfire.

My eyes squeeze shut. A hand
(it must be mine) clamps itself over my face
to muffle the dull red daylight glow
that still seeps through the lowered lids.
Another hand, groping, finds the light switch.

A blissful sigh.
O sweet, blessed darkness,
how I worship thee.
Remember a few months ago, when I posted a journal warning of "incoming poetry?" Well, they've started coming in.

This is one of ten poems I wrote for my workshop. I'd never written (real) poetry before, so not everything I produced is worth sharing, but some of them had potential, so I'll be taking a few of the ones I liked and sprucing them up a bit and posting them here.

This one's based on a true story, as anyone who's suffered from migraines can attest (as several of my classmates did). I've always gotten very mild migraines, but the symptoms are still unpleasant and bizarre, and I thought they might make an amusing subject for a poem.
© 2015 - 2024 Portmeirion
Comments2
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phasingirl's avatar
I'm no poetry expert by any means but I really like this. I used to get migraines daily until I went gluten free, and this is a perfect description.