Bad Signal

The right side of my back hurts
Inside my shoulder blade.
I know exactly what it is
Even though you don’t
(You never did accept it)
But it relates to what you cannot feel yet
What has not been permitted to you yet

What has not foamed
To your consciousness yet.
I do not think I am a prophet again yet.
Nor is this vindictive or malicious: no blame
Or shame is in sight between us we are past it.
I know you cannot speak of it yet, what is there.
But I also know something beneath you

Feels it forming—and so for now, I’ll take it for you.
The right side of my back hurts
Inside my shoulder blade as I hold
All you need to share—I bear

What quietly builds within you; and I do
What is required with it, silently
And willingly, without absolving you completely:
I will not be enabling you again. I certainly

Will not be drilling into you myself anymore, no. I only
Monitor your waters as they edge—as waves
Indifferently slap your shores; and when they bubble
And break—or I pop some low hanging splashes

Of yours—I will put them on my back again; which
Will hurt, as it always does. Though I’ll take that, and you will not
Have to notice a thing: you will
Only be left feeling better. You see

There was never any need for you to worry, as your waves
Are delightful visual auras for me: they blind me
Across all my cortexes. And I love the work: the challenge,
The pressure, the pain you always gave me. But

Of course—as I am now
Fully aware—visual auras can also signal the start of a migraine.