Lunar Migraine

Lunar Migraine

A heavy pressure on the head, a

bearing down,

a bearing down onto the head by

something quite heavy, a pressure,

something like:

sleep needed, not had

woman wanted, not got

a looming menstrual blush,

ensuing algae bloom.

You are a Pompeiian shadow of

good times, long-enough-ago-

begotten, and THUS:

I do not love you, I do not love you,

I do not love you,

agonizing, boring valkyrie.

I was warned that this moon,

this full and tiresome moon,

would be antagonistic.

Never-you-mind, I figured it,

beneath a simple white sheet,

with Pound, and clothed

in mens underwear.

Yet I am well met by cranial

bad dream, and I dreamt of you

last night, dreamt of touching

you

as if tidepooling

and woke quite crippled,

tracked my location to a gloomy

seaside stretch of loam,

somewhere between

sorrow and bullshit