SPARK

Rachel Morton
Outcropping
Inspiration piece

Home
By Tori Lane
Response

In the beige and white matter of the brain,
I get it,
but it refuses to settle,
sink down the line of my spine,
travel south inside jugular veins,
lodge in the heart,
infect blood that pushes out,
permeate the rest of me.
I don’t get it in my socked feet
or in the morning stretch of legs,
in the hollow hunger of stomach
or shower wrinkled fingers,
in the tension of shoulders
or the rise and fall of breathing chest –
only behind the eyes,
tucked away inside the matter
where words are formed,
above the neckline of disconnect
between my head and heart.

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