Listening to Angels

This ravenous requiem in my own body
splinters my mind with a whirlwind
of unknowing.

This music deafens my usual calm
and I am jostled with each unhinged idea
of what the cells might be doing to harm
the peace that used to live in harmony
so close to these bones.

The brindled bargains don't match
the solid deals I once thought I had locked into
and knew exactly what to expect.

I can not finesse the truth
of a breast swelling with odd configurations
that will not nourish me.

I can almost hear the angels whispering my name,
but not loudly enough to make me turn around.