Against the Graineby Michelle BurkeFilling the bucket with soapy water that spills over the edges and smells of lemons my rubber covered hands grip the rim as weakened legs shake and wobble with lack of co-ordination seconds earlier retching and kneeling on the floor unable to control the purging and spitting when migraine comes without warning and tells the brain to perform uncommon acts on vascular entities deep within my body mother with cold cloths that feel like storm rain on my face and must have been hanging inside a meat locker for twenty hours at sub-zero temperatures eagle beaks of throbbing pain clutch at hollow eyes with just enough intensity to ensure I stay fully conscious and savour its pulsating rhyme beating a tattoo against my skull bones zigzag lights everywhere half-faces and scattered words on boxes of tissues and cigarettes I feel like smoking but can’t find the necessary co-ordination to join lips and filter the slow, inching return to normal as faces become visible against drawn curtains that let tiny light slivers into the room I light a cigarette sip coffee and remark that recovery is better than a vacation © 2005 by Michelle Burke. All rights reserved. |