When I hear The Song

Sudden acridity stings,

consumes my vision.

Breath catches in

ragged inhalation.

At first

a sigh.

Melancholy.

Sinking into sorrow

deep and black.

Longing stirs,

craving manifests.

I smell the baby.

I see the smile of the child.

I hear the laughter of the man.

I touch a memory.

Then

I taste the fear,

for I know

what’s coming.

From my centre

a singularity

explodes

issuing wretched

ever-swelling

agony.

A physicality of something

in torment

seeding from where

Aphrodite resides.

Spasms of tribulation

rock in waves -

in waves of retro-labour.

violent

vivid

upward and outward.

Verso-laborious,

racking waves

undulate upwards

through and past my heart

seeking solace in caress.

At the base of my throat

my hands

soothe invisibility.