The Brain No More Sacred

Heather Hughes

“An injury to the brain, too much labor, extreme weather, worms, consumption,
constipation, masturbation, intense study, and too much imagination could all
cause a circulatory imbalance.”


Why use this
fork, why not to revolt, why carefully
bump noun verb noun sans adjective, why
wear a red flower, why to stay inside
unless carrying an umbrella,
why the sand must be wet.

 

“I honestly do not see how one can withhold a treatment of proved efficacy for
fear of inflicting or aggravating putative brain damage.”

 

Make a simple wooden chair
with blinders. Sit. Be calm.
Repeat labels scientific and colloquial,
silently.
Batshit. Bipolar. Manic. Neurotic.
Problematic. It comes back
into style – imbalance.
Circulatory, chemical, genetic,
narcotic. It’s all
the rage. A stress-induced
psychotic break.

 

“It is death for creativeness. Those who take aminazine cannot even read after
taking it. Intellectually they become more and more uncouth and primitive.
Although I am afraid of death, let them shoot me rather than this.” 

 

Because where a door has no business
being, without consent.
Because the fleshy interior flesh
of a clam or mussel is
for eating with the tongue,
not bouncing between hands.
Not for cradling
what is open. Gaping,
clamped, snaps, stop.
Take a rest cure. Here,
bite down on this.

About the Work

Heather Hughes

Heather Hughes is a poet, publishing professional, teacher, student, and yogini currently living in Boston. Her work has appeared in Cream City Review, Grain, damselfly press, Eudaimonia, Driftwood Review, and Prick of the Spindle, among others. She would like to live in a lighthouse.

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