The End of an Era
So I was talking to a friend the other day who was sick and had taken some pretty strong meds to get through the day. He said something about his insides going through an apocalypse and that reminded me of this poem I published in my school’s literary journal my senior year of college. If you’re opposed to reading about bodily functions, you probably won’t enjoy it. Anyway, here it is: The End of an Era.
She feels its approach
deep within her abdomen.
The horsemen descend upon her,
bursting into her life
uninvited. Unwanted. Unstoppable.
Each carries his own unique weapon.
The first inflicts blinding pain
inside her head, inhibiting
her ability to think clearly,
or even at all.
The second causes her to curl
into a ball, hugging her middle,
begging for the pain to stop.
The third is the most gruesome.
With his arrival comes uncontrollable bleeding-
enough to cause pain and fatigue-
but not enough to finish her off.
The blood serves mostly as a distraction;
it keeps her from being able to fight back.
As ghastly as the bloody horseman is,
there is one more: the cruelest of them all.
He rides in before the others
and stays after they have gone.
He forgoes physical affliction
and delves straight into her mind,
shuffling her emotions like
a poker deck,
occasionally even removing cards,
hiding them up his sleeve.
He leaves her a jumbled mess,
unsure of her own opinions,
There is only one thing she knows for sure;
when these horsemen arrived
with their monthly apocalypses,
they ended the world as she knew it.
But R.E.M. lied.
She feels anything but fine.