She says to watch the waves. The tides are mixed, we wait for alignment.
It could take years….and in the meantime my bones slap against the equator.
The water is low.
Fish flop belly up with baby jelly beans dangling in reverse….the tide is turning.
Zenith encourages direction. I am vertical; midheaven.
God is intersecting.
What house do I belong in?
Am I breast and bone?
Am I flesh and blood?
Am I fire and system?
She says to watch the waves. We can go from there. The sun must first come
over the horizon. I strain East. I feed on the ecliptic axis and wait 90 degrees
like suggested. I wait
until I fall beneath the Earth. X lives here. X is virulent and understood.
X is ability and invasion.
She says I have to learn how to be with the disease. Who I am is bound
and fruitless. I will never find alignment when I greet
X in such short periods. X will never release the bacteria and set me
back on land,
where I can wait with the tides for alignment,
and drown out the suffering.
The monsters are awake,
upstairs. They hide out in the most
stomping through the garden of adequacy, bathing
their filth in competency.
They awake me from agitated
sleep, speeding my attention away from the immune
hard-wood floor to
the bed of pins and needles they have
The doctor says I have a choice.
I chose capsules.
(That was not the correct choice, they say)
I agree. The capsules do
not keep the monsters
or help me Rest In Peace – a
choice the doctor says is not a choice.
I am left with a capsule and the monsters,
swallowing the capsules with a pitcher of
beer – attempting a “submerge and die”, but they
enamel on their
sharp little fangs and the capsule
is made of gel.
My monsters sink in their teeth and
shred open the pill
releasing the promised relief – One monster snatches a
handful and a thousand more follow, till
all the magical comfort
I can’t say I blame them – they
have an addiction. If these capsules do
what the doctor has promised, I would want a
piece of it, too.