An arts magazine at the University of Pennsylvania
Headache
Art by Zuha Nasim
Writing by Lila Dubois
The cloud comes over me in the earliest hours of the morning
before the drapes seep with light
when the world is still brewed in black and blue, dark and rich and quiet
heavy
The space between my skull and brain is stuffed with shattered china
edges piercing and slicing my gummy head tissue to get situated just right
then comfortably lodged,
they begin to bleed me out
Or maybe last night, while I was sleeping
someone put a siphon to my head
and poured in liquid hot lead
and smiled as they watched it glug steadily down my ear canal
glugging down down down until my head’s filled up and overflowed just a little before they stopped pouring,
and then as the night turned cooler the metal solidified
turning my head to this lead kettle bell
which I feel now
in these earliest hours of the morning
I wonder how I’m going to lift it
that lead kettle bell
I’m worried someday I won’t even try
I’ll wake
and just remain
in the cloud that comes over me in the earliest hours of the morning
before the drapes seep with light
when the world is still brewed in black and blue, dark and rich and quiet
heavy