orajel

1-studyshowspo

Corn stover on an Indiana field after harvest, Keith Robinson

 

dull pains cloud into fever dreams
in the daylight

the time my molars hurt so bad I dreamed
of thumbing them out like a row of corn,
kernels falling into my palm like tic-
tacs until the throbbing thinned to
quiet

instead I visited a man who put me to sleep
and took out my teeth and I paid him money
to do this

while I slept I dreamt
of fields of wheat
collapsing two by two as I walked past
as I danced past, to a rhythm, in a pocket, with a freedom
I have never known

 

: :

 

In every ache there is a seed
unconnected to anything we can see with our eyes
but alive to a life outside of sound,
quick as light, sooner than start or end
or in-between.

that seed is for the living
that ache is for the living
this cool water is for the living—

 

                                                            drink

 

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