She
blames the caffeine for
that
thunderous thrumming
coursing
viscous flow.
She
peers at her wrists,
wonders
why she can’t see
the
cells whitewater rafting
through
her veins.
Mindlessly,
she eats
another
cookie,
wonders
if maybe sugar
is
the stampeding culprit.
The
answer is, “fine.”
It’s
always fine and
sometimes
even dandy.
And
she wouldn’t even worry
except
for that thrumming.
The
lapping at her ears
keeps
her awake at night.
It
sounds like a thousand crickets
or
one bursting heart.
The
cookie is a distant memory
as
she pops a french fry
into
her mouth.
It’s
all fine and good
but
she really needs
new
pants because these
ones
are old, yeah, old.
What
would happen
if
the thrumming stopped?
If
the chewing slowed?
If
her mind sat still
on
that flat rock?
If,
instead of crickets
she
heard the truth in her ear?
What
would happen
if
she stopped trying
to
feed her heart?
Very powerful!
ReplyDeleteOh, this really grabs me and makes me want to cry.
ReplyDeletegreat writing
ReplyDeletewow. yes, powerful.
ReplyDeletePowerful write, Bug...I have a love affair with food...
ReplyDeleteI am sitting at my desk with tears rolling down my face. I recognize this person....it is me.
ReplyDeleteyou amaze me.
ReplyDeleteHey Bug,
ReplyDeleteYour post is introspective with sad undertones, but always with heart. No pressure because it all comes out in the wash and crickets are lucky. Thank you for sharing. =D
Very moving, Dana. Beautifully done. I so envy your way with prose.
ReplyDelete