Just Limbering up for the evening’s writing


Wake from a drowse, there’s soreness in my throat
from dryness, and it’s also in my heart.
I fear it’s love again. The feelings start
and go on like a headache. There’s a note

that echoes slightly off-key in my brain,
and breaks all music. It is in my ears
like wax that sticks and itches, disappears
like dripping in the kitchen sink, like pain

in teeth it throbs and vanishes, i think
it’s gone for good, can’t even quite recall
just what it felt like. Then it’s in the hall
slamming the door to say it’s home. i blink

It’s come, it’s gone. And so i say her name.
And sickness goes. Love stays. They’re not the same.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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