pain

some do it quiet
like the mist atop a mountain
that spreads a girdle of thin cloud
over the mouth of a deep, warm crater

some do it loudly
like thunder that crackles
harshly, sharply on window panes
and makes deliberating drops of rain
tremble down

some do it inanely
like it's someone else's child
that they are cleaning, bathing

some do it purposefully
like it was the only thing
that happened between here and Big Bang
and it would be the last word in the Human Race

I do it quietly, noisily in my head, heavily in my heart
detached, disobedient and disarrayed
objective

hard

cold

real

direct

distinct
and I never use a pain killer
- that's an addiction
it's easier to consume it whole

that is an even better addiction
once you know how rusty it really tastes

-Rochelle Potkar