Judith A. Brice: Migraine

When the nausea descends

I forget the sunset,

her light listing its way

west, the skeins of fuchsia

falling slowly to her knees—

.

And then, like a lightning bolt—

first out of fear and abrupt-fused with dread—

stabs of pain, pangs of panic, intrude,

even collude to knife my head.

.

Before I know, I’m trapped.

.

Heaving shadows blacken my mind,

mist all grass underfoot, and drench

me in fields with desolate dark—

.

though quickly a Towhee trill

might quaver me awake,

rustle my blighted brain,

even grab its bilious gaze

.

to catch silken embers of sun

as they topaz the sky.

Copyright 2018 Judith Brice.

Judith Brice is a retired Pittsburgh psychiatrist. She is the author of two collections of poems: Renditions in a Palette and Overhead from Longing.