by M.G.
The Pill Cutter
Chomping blue mechanical mouth,
the pac-man bares its shiny tooth -
a single silver blade.
It eats only pills
like I do.
Bip CLOP. bip CLOP.
Full moons to half moons.
Bip CLOP. bip CLOP.
I would pay the neighbor boy to do it
if his hands weren't so dirty.
Each week I am reminded
that my body will not live
without these.
Each week I face the mouth.
He is not smiling exactly,
yet has an eagerness.
He is plastic and metal
and will far outlast me.
Migraine
This 30-pound head is yours
If you can lift it
From its pillow. It has sunk in deep.
Long asleep. Your lucky pearl. A trophy.
Take it take it. You are no bandit.
It is glad to be found and put to use.
No excuse that the brain misfires,
For the skull, smooth calcium phosphate rock,
Will last and last.
Roll it roll it. It will get your strike
Or spare if you like
To be coy. That boy is a winner
They’re sure to say. But we know
The burden so when you return
Lay it gently down.
Cover the cage fully around.
Safe in the dark and calm in the quiet
It beats an ancient steady beat.
An urgent beat, the pulse to live.
Suffering is an art like everything.
The cerebral heart
Will give and give.
