Tonight's Poet Corner: Migraine

Migraine
by Belinda Roddie

It's as if all premonitions
are locked behind my right eye,
collecting stars in my sinuses -
the cosmic dust clogs the

tunnels within, ironically
blots out light.

I sleep for an extra four hours
to stave off the pain, only to
embrace the throbbing, that
bare bone percussion, that

endless war drum when all
I want for myself is peace.

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