Magnetic Resonance Imaging
an hour of closed eyes ignoring
pseudo hockey mask and tight
quarters of a human shaped
tube like a plastic coffin;
coddling two hair ties in lap
absently, clenching teeth
as dental fillings warm,
afraid they may lift
from cavities in bone
while currently vacant womb
constricts involuntarily
whirring like broadband
or two trains having sex
or cartoon machine guns
or old school camera shutters
soundtrack for her entertainment
overridden by retreat:
humming bright
melodies, memorized
from a favorite musical
Easy Fix
yesterday's kissed coffee, evidence
of attempts to fight fog
like a tangible thing that can be struck
& conquered
all things can be conquered
through the power of coalescing
the right battle strategies;
nothing can win forever
the tonic lies
in a secret herb whispered once
in a guide book
with sketches & Latin & lost remedies
or: a chalky white pitter-patter
like maracas in a tube, or: a bottle aged
12 years in Scotland (doesn't fight fog,
but takes the edge off)
Pray they say Pray this plague away
the LORD works in mystery,
Houdini to the whole world,
letting neurotransmissions drop, poisoned
lord knows it isn't genuflecting
that applies salve to burning
nerves in the body's late
night wake-up call
but the candlelit vigils,
chanting & chamomile,
pentacle against collarbone
reminding of Earth beneath feet,
firm, spirit inside
& outside & all things;
limbs steel with tightening grip,
throat parched for the next answer
Hypocoristic
first, her cane:
picked for pink sheen
to feel like accessorizing
just another piece
of something shiny-pretty:
aka Aurora
then, her disease:
shortened to two syllables
so she can call it like a bichon
instead of a gamble—
familiar, intimate:
fibro
unburdened by the clumsy
tongue-twisting myalgia
that garners pity pursed lips
from onlookers preparing
their unsolicited counsel
Hollow Expression
hallmark cards are for the easy
concepts, the command-wish
of get well soon, cartoon
puppies, a bandage crisscrossing
a nose, and all around—hearts
and the concepts
carry over
get well soon bid
from those who fail
to realize—there’s no light
at the end of this tunnel,
the trick of the thing
is keeping the track clear
and simply barreling forward
as compromised wheels creak
and break beneath you
my condolences reserved
for the dead, sympathy
section for the awkward
realm of no solution except
the silver swirl of flowers
and the sanctified
goodbyes, presided over
no:
diagnosis congrats!
punctuated with champagne
bottles, sketched
no:
thinking of you
and your cane
and whether you’ll have enough
energy to stand
in the shower today
blue elephant in the room
spraying water
no:
puns with a man gaping up
from the card, expecting
laughter he will never hear
because how much can a person
play with fibromyalgia
so:
get well soon, spoken
for lack of proverbs
reserved for just such an occasion
Fibro Anatomy
oxygen nomadic in skull
like dancer around ballroom
without partner,
creating a sensation
of forehead kissing brick
wall and protesting with pulse
fire where neck meets spine
radiating, mixed messages
because doesn’t warmth comfort
but there’s no aloe vera
to soothe this burn,
each vertebra a punctuation
with vice grip insistence
someone tugged
the arms of her voodoo
doll sore
from sockets to wrists
hips that used to carry
weight of overflowing
laundry baskets & clinging
toddlers but now
buckle under strain
of crossed legs
body split in half
(alternating) sides
go numb without notice,
heart to achilles tendon
and back again
Audrey T. Carroll is a Queens, NYC native whose obsessions include kittens, coffee, Supernatural, Buffy, and the Rooster Teeth community. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Fiction International, The Fem, Feminine Inquiry, the A3 Review, and others. Her poetry collection, Queen of Pentacles, is forthcoming from Choose the Sword Press. She can be found at http://audreytcarrollwrites.weebly.com and @AudreyTCarroll on Twitter.