Jacquie Harris

MY ISLETS OF LANGERHANS WOULD KNOW YOU IF THEY SAW YOU
 

I’m looking for the place
where I’ve put my anger –

             {energy cannot be created or destroyed}

only transferred, beaten down,
knocked around

              relocated

this had nothing to do with my pancreas, but here we are – hyperglycemia

from the super saturated sugar solution in my blood
that I use to counteract the
the ubiquitous bitter

there’s nowhere else to put this overcompensation
of my continuous estimation

            {for every action there is an unequal and opposite reaction}

candying myself over

like a dipped and over ripened apple

what was once sticky
and so difficult to move
has hardened into the shell that will explode

adhesive shrapnel in your flesh
a wound that neither of us could have expected;

I didn’t know that
to make myself survive you
I became a bomb

                                    
back to contents

 
next