The Iron Vice


It’s the home cheer of familiar

ache again,

the throb of head splitting and shrieking.

It’s whooshing in, taking over.

And in its wake, ideas all spent.

Metal clamp squeezes your world snugly,

deigns to let a single

streak of despair flash out…

then back to gaping, waiting darkness.


November gloom and rain have put me in a sluggish mood. For a less glum take on poetry, please see what the wonderful poets at dVerse Poets Pub have contributed to the weekly Open Link Night