behind the eye

Sepsis behind the dominant eye, just across a nebula, 32 light years away.

A stretch to span the gulf, in a breath, the pulsing lip, a black hole from the missing tooth.

Pain with its hand on the button.

Ever risk futures on tech, no hedge.

Ever feel infection, left with no choices.

March on the capital, money changers, collectors,

infection still speaking.

The lawn guy from Jamaica just by,

as I hunch over glass.

An old man in a Honda, on a device, tap tap tappy.

The whole time: robins, wrens, prop airplanes

overhead,

the decel gargle of a semi out McGinnis Ferry.

51 degrees. Birds.

My mouth is hurting, a week after extraction,

the site still in denial.

My ear itching too.

The cello up-ticks in the car, the orphan,

hendyyamps studios, Aimee.

Trying not to worry.

Art is her reflection, light strings,

track titled: if I don’t see you again.

The neighbor still pretending to do important shit,

a chainsaw rattle in a serene glen, battery-powered, still loud enough.

A sparrow squirgle squawks.

I contemplate moving indoors,

another play, an undulating warble across the yard.

The pain disappeared long enough to notice,

to mention,

and of course that spun up demons just to say it.

Wallowing in self-loathing, fear,

North Georgia, Blue Ridge fever.

He wondering if it needs mowed, just now spring,

the grass wakes up slow.

Breathe.

Come on, body.

You got this.

I just heal slow.