close your eyes
and grit your teeth
this is going to hurt
this is going to feel good
this is going to make you forget but
this is going to be memory
let the feeling separate you
from your skin like a sunday chicken
on a weight watcher’s plate
let yourself be blind
feel the ten thousand needles
each and every single one of them
necessary
delivering
deliverance
firmly in hand
eyes closed
eyes closing
because when they open
and your breath is your own again
the moment is over
is past
is memory
Words and Feathers 