There's a hive in my head. Its bees comb through
my occipital lobe, blurring my sight
(as if I've stared too long at candlelight,
tessellating, streaking my field of view),
they sleep most the time, in my brain tissue;
once awakened, they don yellow jackets
and tread my nerves, numbing my limbs with spite
as they head towards my ears, where they accrue
in my canal to play ear drum Jazz jams;
My clogged ears reverberate, bumble, thrum
and buzz; I want to escape their racket
I fear I'll end up in a wax casket
Aspirin? Alka-Seltzer? Should help some;
Every silent sting and stab bites and slams.
Credit: "Migraine," has been published in Peacock Journal. The author gives The Shining Rock Poetry Anthology & Book Review permission to reprint.
Lexie Reese is a student at Utah State University majoring in creative writing and communication disorders. Her work has been published in Red Fez Magazine, Buckoff Magazine, Edify Fiction, and Peacock Journal.