In migraine's grip of iron,
each eyebrow cemented in place,
my head is bowed, my vision bent
to the floor rather than up at a face.
Snap to! I say. There's a luncheon to do!
Hurry now, banish the pain!
But drugged feeling persists --
swollen nose, swollen eyes,
and feverishly pulsing brain.
I know not what's to become of me
or the work that is mine to do
when I must succumb every other day
to a cerebral storm anew.
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