Saturday, March 28, 2009
Something is wrong—a flashing ring of shards
as if I have been staring at the sun
through windowless walls. Nightmarish vision
as crystals sparkle, multiply, enlarge
the searing blind spot. I don’t know if I’ve
been damaged by the chemicals I use
at work, or if the isotopes have fused
my neurons, whether I will be alive
tomorrow. I won’t know how I got home,
got sleep. Next time, a darkened cubicle,
a gurney, morphine, vomit, icicle-
blindness, terror. Diagnosis: migraine.
Is that all! Dancing sparks, dark dread set free,
fantastic lights not everyone can see.
