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.