Headache

Headache

Soon I’ll be a fugitive

of my own skin, raw.

I’ve chosen the rare

sensation of  tainted

blood to outfit my

bow of thorns.  Today

I will not clutch a fist

in the wind’s sneer,

nor will I disenchant

my examiners. I will

wait for the postman

to deliver the world turning

from my rented attic;

wait for the headache

to ease, or go away

all together.