Poem: Cold Wars

Cold Wars, a poem

Morning.
A tickle in my throat
announces the vanguard of
hostile invasion.
My own personal Star Wars
system has been breached.

Midday.
The enemy has captured
and occupied my sinuses.
My eyebrows feel huge;
overhanging ledges above
my receding eyes.

Evening.
Half my head is the unwilling
host to swaggering aliens.
Their sharp swords stab me.
They shove my thoughts
with rough chainmailed elbows.

Night.
My nose becomes the frontline;
assaulted, red and sore.
Then, somewhere near dawn,
it happens:
The enemy flees and, leaving,
is captured by an army of
paper tissues.
Supersoft, with soothing camomile.

I breathe again.

6 thoughts on “Poem: Cold Wars

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.