14 of 30. What We Pray For When We Are Sick.


Last night I woke up to my body,
a constellation of pain.

Each joint, elbow, knee, wrist and
ankle, every finger a glowing
star of ache.

I would say it more plainly,
but the body dreams in galaxy
and heat when plagued with fever.

This morning I woke to a throat
cracked as a rainless plain,
head as full of water as a young coconut.

No part able to give or take
what was needed.

The day passed slow,
with no lights on,
I could not read,
I was not hungry.

I let the movies run their course
and day dreamed myself through
New Mexico, through Minnesota,
through multiple personalities
and part of a sermon about forgiveness.

When the living room was no longer lit
by the sun from the backyard,
I put on the grey pants still hanging
from the bed, and the red lipstick
standing on my night stand.

My chest worked hard against me
from Avenue C to 2nd.
My body did not want to leave bed,
the couch, home.

Tonight I fall asleep with medicine
in my body, a war against the stars.
I am praying for a black sleep without
dreams or a moon.

I am praying for rain in the morning.

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About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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