---
date: 2017-06-03
type: post
title: Bruise Vision
categories:
- Poem
ratings: G
tags:
- Poetry
- Mental Health
---

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<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>I</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Unnerving</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    Anxiety</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
A hundred geese overhead —
    A thousand —
        A million —

Heady scent of premonition.
Acrid tang of ill omens.
Portents.
Too much meaning
    In too small a space.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>II</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Noise-Cancelling Headphones</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    auditory aberrations</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress
    Of two layers of phantasmagorical
        Newtonian fluids,
    Which is why they’re often seen on a plane.
A thin, sort-of Truth
    From a sort of thin layer
        geese chromatography.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>III</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Eldrich</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    red tint to vision; hot flashes</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
As the dove bears the olive branch,
    so to the goose bears the wand
        that withers all it touches.
A wand of nightshade,
    Core of tainted silver.
A wand of obscure origin,
    The goose surely stole it.
Malice begets malice.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>IV</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Beyond Comprehension</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    confusion; nausea; sweating; racing pulse</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
We know not the transgression,
    the origin -
We know not the punishment,
    only the terror.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>V</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Excruciating</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    pounding heart; tunnel vision; racing thoughts; black outs;
blood pouring from ears</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
Geas
    Wing
        Dark
            Horizon
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>VI</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Terrifying</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    tinnitus; piloerection; shortness of breath; uneven gait</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
I’d rather owls.
Owls, as though geese were turned inside out,
    made less evil.
Still portentous,
    Still momentous,
    Just less terrifying.
Owls are okay.
I can think about owls.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>VII</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Uncomfortable</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    subdermal itching; formication</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
Life within a comfortable grid.
Parallel lines
    Interrupting narrowing circles
    Of birds in flight.
Travel in straight lines.
Turn at right angles.
Trace the roof of your mouth
    With wet tongue.

I’m not afraid of geese anymore
    Because I can step on them now.
I’m big enough.
    </div>
</div>

<div class="row">
    <div class="col-md-4 text-right">
    <h3>VIII</h3>
    <p><em>Geese Level:</em><br />
    Birds</p>
    <p><em>Expect:</em><br />
    birds</p>
    </div>
    <div class="col-md-8 verse">
Ritual thinking
    Driven by geese —
    By lines, by grids, by food —
    By numbers and neat delineation.
And I’m left with questions:
    Why are they so portentous?
    Why the anxiety?
Or maybe:
    Did I take my meds this morning?

Failing that,
    Can I just have the comfort of prayer
    Or the ecstasy of signs
        Without the bleak paranoia
        Over circling birds?
    </div>
</div>