I could feel it rolling inside me;

the lead-lump weight in my stomach.

Every so often it bumped into my ribs

rattling them like wind chimes,

shivering my skin into drumbeats.

The weight would lift to my throat

repulsing food

as if it were flies desperate to feed on my lining.

If I was unlucky, the weight got cold

and huddled by my heart for warmth,

chilling it too –

not cold like a penguin, sharing its heat,

but cold like a room.

When I clawed my soft flesh to remove the hard tumor

It dug further inside.

When I finally found it

sitting at the base of my gut

nothing was there.

Just a small smooth stone

and pockmarked air.