Re Test - a collaboration with a stalked christian from madison

she has told me that a man claiming to be a healer uses his healing power to fondle her

she has told me a lady cop has threatened her via cryptic message on facebook, as a result of breaking off a ephemeral affair

she has confided in me about her trust issues

i had thought that her paranoia has driven her away, but today she sent me a poem

i rewrote her poem

i am publishing both versions, hers first

Re Test

The days and nights that have passed have been extreme.
Extremely frightening in terms of survival,
of clawing for health amid
a bloated death belly wracked in agony
with no apparent cause
and only unyielding pain.

My mind flits to thought of dying
lying in my own bed, hidden away in my santuary
with a stomach puffed out
like a refugee
and no comfort.

It was terse.
I laid awake.
I thought of heart attacks.
I thought of gastric rupture.
I thought of those kids with the huge bellies in Ethiopia.

Woke in discomfort with no way
to ease the fear and the panic
that my stomach had suddenly become
obese and it might never return to it's normal size.
And the fact that these things never seem to happen during office hours.

The body and it's mysteries.

The pictures I took
the distension so horrible
I wondered if I'd become malnourished and
unable to digest the food I had pushed into
that hideous gaping maw.

Starved for love and for a sanctuary
but no one I wanted
to really share this pregnant, tight-as-a-drum
honeycomb, pregnant with a non-baby
mini-van that now billowed over my pants and tightened the buttons on my shirt.

I am not perfect.
I cannot be perfect.
And now I am so far from perfect
I don't know who who this stomach belongs to.
Today, thank God...it went away.
The whole thing deflated.

But the week before was a different kind of haze.
My eyes encrusted with a glaucous coating I could not rub away.
Blinded clear sight by scratchy material, never seen it before.
Couldn't see.
Lost with no intuition only flatness as I ran
searching
searching
clamoring for who I used to be.

Dark glasses covered my gaze and the stick I used
to poke through
was painted white and had a red tip.
But I could not see that I was blind or that
they had only been memories of sanity burnt upon my retina.

Visions of the terrible.
Visions of me and my aloneness
fusing into one conglomerate
something so idiotic
that no one even knew
I had lost my sight
but me.

Frantic to be lost and alone
Frantic to attempt to explain the inexplicable
Frantic because I had lost touch
and with God, too.

How many times must I run for dear life and
                         make it through the maze
                                       to find you standing there
ready to embrace me
telling me I am home?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
my version has punctuation issues, which i haven't addressed because i feel as through i could continue adding lines to it forever

perhaps i'll work on it again, but i doubt it

it'll be interesting to see her reaction!

maybe she'll find her poem here, like the last lady did. she was searching part of it and found it here on DU. she asked me to take it down, which i'll do, and discontinued our collaboration. i was in a state of giggly consternation. because of her i plan on continuing to publish such collaborations here. too bad she didn't complain. i'd love to see DU's response. canceling my account would break my heart! for at least 20 seconds!

Re Test In Peace

The days and nights that have passed have been extreme.
What seems like what it seems like
seems like me
Extremely frightening in terms of survival,
endearments of the fittest
of clawing for health amid
a bloated death belly wracked in agony
with no apparent cause
or clause against claws
in the paper wind
only the promise of gain
only fertile ground,
only forecasted rain
and only unyielding pain.

One eye resting
My mind flits to thought of dying
One eye wresting
lying in my own bed, hidden away in my sanctuary
very tested by the weight of the thick air
supine, like the dead
with a stomach puffed out
like a refugee
living inside a refugee
and no comfort
frozen in place
pain is a sport
i'm a nude player
cold under a burning sun


It was terse.
I laid awake.
under the spell of the curse
I thought of heart attacks.
i dreamed of mountains
I thought of gastric rupture.
i dreamed of floating
in space
I thought of those kids with the huge bellies in Ethiopia.
I dreamed i was an alligator charging a victim in the night
the ashes of children were sprinkled in the clouds
silent prayers were said out loud

Woke in discomfort with no way
to ease the fear and the panic
that my stomach had suddenly become
obese and it might never return to it's normal size.
And the fact that these things never seem to happen during office hours.
then i realized that i realized what i realized when i realized
there's more to life than drawn conclution
The body and it's mysteries.
every mind, like a map, turn on the light
read it's history
relive it's history
like a cartographer

The pictures I took
the distension so horrible
like a dead kid, gravid
with a dead baby death ball of flesh rot
I wondered if I'd become malnourished and
unable to digest the food I had pushed into
that hideous gaping maw.

Starved for love and for a sanctuary
but no one I wanted
to really share this pregnant, tight-as-a-drum
honeycomb, pregnant with a non-baby
mini-van that now billowed over my pants and tightened the buttons on my shirt.
i prepared organic jello for desert
and applied it to the wound, where it hurt

I am not perfect.
I cannot be perfect.
And now I am so far from perfect
I don't know who who this stomach belongs to.
what who
who who
i draw the curtain
look at the ceiling
focus on the feeling of feeling
focuses
Today, thank God...it went away.
prithee it does not come back
to stay
The whole thing deflated.
i'm glad i waited
dull knife, jaded
semi-precious

But the week before was a different kind of haze.
My eyes encrusted with a glaucous coating I could not rub away.
Blinded clear sight by scratchy material, never seen it before.
Couldn't see.
Lost with no intuition only flatness as I ran
searching
searching
clamoring for who I used to be.
marching in circles, beating on drums
meaning who i used to be
wracking
wracking
making from chaos a mysterious peace

Dark glasses covered my gaze and the stick I used
to poke through
was painted white and had a red tip.
But I could not see that I was blind or that
they had only been memories of sanity burnt upon my retina.
the image of saints
snapping photoreceptor cells
eyelid obscura
complex optical system
flash shutter spectrum shudder sense nerve sensor
light enter, light enter
home base to ground center
transmit
transmit

charged ohms
intonation
i sit with my fingers, thumb touching bird
thumb touching bird
i atone the dark chamber
for the sin of darkness
Visions of the terrible.
Visions of me and my aloneness
of me alone
(        )
fusing into one conglomerate
hands shaking, hand shake
knee jerk networking
something so idiotic
defying defying
the act of defying the act of defying
submission
that no one even knew
that i could see
that I had lost my sight
that, but me.

Frantic to be lost and alone
frantic spasmodic
Frantic to attempt to explain the inexplicable
psychotic spasmodic
Frantic because I had lost touch
my fingertips, sensual memories
tactile catchers
nerves feeding
and with God, too.
God to God
whispers my name, Voice

How many times must I run for dear life and
                         make it through the maze
                                       to find you standing there
ready to embrace me
telling me I am home?
am i home?
who are we?
who are we?

everywhere i go i am home
this is my home
i am home

where are you?
the sign at the door clearly states
go!
GO! GO! GO!
go home
leave me alone

(you may pass my child)