<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Letter From My Migraine It mentioned how things just weren’t to win all the prizes now gone. who could keep on working long after into the sink, rinse once, then go typing blind against the deadline. to cohabit\u2014the happy couple\u2014 once in awhile, for old times’ sake. since the concussion, gulping pills I tell myself I can still enjoy a cold cloth over my eyes, not bulging, I imagine coins laid on the lids What is life without pain, or the threat I will not pretend to miss him, <\/p>\n <\/p>\n
\n<\/strong>
\nI got a letter from my migraine yesterday.
\nThe penmanship was impeccable.<\/p>\n
\nworking out, me with the drive<\/p>\n
\nIt had found some nice neurotic<\/p>\n
\nher eyesight went, would vomit<\/p>\n
\nback to writing that grant proposal,<\/p>\n
\nSo I gave them my blessing<\/p>\n
\nbut offered to let him visit,<\/p>\n
\nAfter all, we’d been together<\/p>\n
\nand moaning, begging to die.<\/p>\n
\na darkened room, alone, still place<\/p>\n
\nor backed with needles, just two eyes.<\/p>\n
\nof the dead, who cannot feel the coldness.<\/p>\n
\nof pain? It is not quite death, I know.<\/p>\n
\nbut I sign my response “with love.”<\/p>\n