Did you enjoy this poem?
by John Picinich
Something's not right
inside me --
my stomach churns, cuts into my belt
as I sit in my tight cubicle,
making me hunch over my computer,
the DNA mapping program forgotten,
as dancing dust motes cloud my eyes.
Something strikes me
as too familiar
about this stab through my intestines --
as if a hint of soft whispers
shoots endorphins along my neural pathways --
yet somehow they stop short of memory
to remain tantalizing tidbits of vague unease.
like cancer --
sears my spine, clamps my cerebellum,
my knees get heavy, my arms go limp --
tentacled shadows are probing pincer-like
and before I blank out I know that
something's reading me like an open book.
Send your raves (or rants) to:
"Well-Read Man" ©2000 John Picinich. Used by permission
of the author.
Raven Electrick ©2000 Karen A. Romanko.
Clipart by Corel®.