How do you measure pain?, di Laura Alaniz

How do you measure pain?

All is relative and personal

Even with one’s own self

It is impossible to compare

As memory distorts pain

Different nerves screaming

To communicate to the brain

(2014)

#SickPoems

A fresh faced country girl Who pioneers on her bicycle Catches the eye Of a transplant from Houston Love begins through letters

Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses

Antisocial tendencies Amplified by sickness I can people watch Yet I can’t people talk I am lonely

Que te cuentan un chiste Las palabras se traducen Pero el humor no se puede Por si no lo entiendes Ríete

Look in the mirror What is it you see? Hazel eyes above your Favorite black dress Looks clean and fresh

Yo te amo Tres palabras Que solucionen todo Para la mujer Tan complicada

The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying

A conversation With a true friend Leaves your life richer Maybe with a laugh A smile on your face

I look away Afraid to see Flicker of nerves In their eye A clench

I am unique In so many ways But while variety excites What we look for Is our common thread

Springtime means Berry pickin’ In warm sun Therapeutic Part of me

He says I could never Get away with murder For I leave Pieces of me everywhere

I will be Forever in debt To my mother Any gift Would come up short

Uh-Oh! Cranky mood Throws a fit Over cereal Cheerios

My poems are short Written at night In my head I wake at dawn Shake my memory