photo_camera by Carolyn Martin
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
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.