Thursday, September 22, 2011



When I crunch into the apple,
or when I walk or jump,
I can feel the holes

in my face sloshing around in
response. The infection
is gone, but the sinuses

are still sensitive, cringing
at how brazenly my
muscles and bones

canter across the pavement,
the tile. Our bodies
are full of pockets,

both full and empty, and they
stay silent for so long,
until they speak.

They communicate to us in
discomfort or pressure,
speak with pinches

and elbows and fists. The reward
for listening is pain, and
a clear source of

what hurts. The body cries, and
we hold it while it settles,
searching for sleep.


  1. Your poem made me think in geological terms, the planet with plates gliding across it and occasionally crunching together. Maybe I'll poem-play today.

    Thanks for the inspiration!

  2. Ouch! and with the images, double ouch! and for someone with sinusitis, I can hardly imagine the ouch!

  3. The first poem I have ever seen or expect to see about sinusitis!

  4. Wow, Hannah. You got down that "ouch" Kathleen notes with such vivid imagery. Wonderful!

  5. I too think this is the first poem about sinusitis. I wish they would publish it on a medical blog or at med school so those doctors would really understand it. xx

  6. Yes, what MrsLittleJeans said, it ought to be required reading at medical school.

  7. Oooh, what Kristin said! I also had visions of a cratered, rocky planet running through my head.

  8. "speak with pinches

    and elbows and fists."

    Ah, well, well put.

  9. I can relate to infected hollow body organs but sinuses really do slosh! Not only that, bit did you ever get stranglely- timed little squeaks in your sinuses? I'd like to hear their poem in translation!


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