Sophia Wilson
New Zealand
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| Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash |
they burrow, gnaw and niggle
I scratch, claw and wriggle
they linger, lurk and loom
I pick, and probe and groom
they crawl, revolt, return
I rip and pull and squirm
they bite, prick, sting and tunnel under skin
I battle, bawl, hand-wring
they glide though veins, gnaw holes in heart
protrude as lumps and tear apart. they nip with pincers
I wince
they formicate and provocate
I ruminate and hesitate
they suck, they eat, they creep
I peel, I scream, I weep
they crust, they itch, they scald
I dig, dissect and maul
they crest, they dip and gorge
I obsess, flip and gouge
they persist, resist, defy
I succumb, repeat, deny
they mine, they groove, they quarry
I whine and worry
craters, cooties, crabs and creams,
nightmarish helminthes replace dreams-
all tactile intrusions
viro-bacterio-confusions.
ointments, antiparastic agents, toxic reagents-
eczema usurps healthy skin,
scars and peeling
render epidermis thin and then the itch;
imagination can be a bitch-
crawling armies, creeping populations of miniscule lechers
invade the brain,
pin me to the wall again.
SOPHIA WILSON has a background in Humanities, Medicine, and Psychiatry. Her poetry and short fiction have appeared in, or are forthcoming in, Ars Medica, StylusLit and elsewhere.
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