He doesn’t notice
the small flying thing
with the stinger
at the end of its thorax
fall into the opening
of his soda can.
So he picks it up
chugs the syrupy sweet
and the flying thing’s stinger
impales itself
in the wall of his esophagus.
He might as well
have licked an
electrical outlet;
replaced his blood
with acid.
The pain is an instantaneous God:
blinding, encompassing, absolute.
He will do anything to placate it.
There is not a single thought
in his brain other than
end this.
He pounds his throat,
nearly crushes his larynx.
He forces his fingers
over his tongue
down his gullet.
He can’t reach the tiny thorn
but he kicks in the gag reflex.
Every bit of lunch
and the flying thing
and the stinger
come back up.
In those few seconds
he’s decimated the patio furniture.
He’s slapped his significant other
who didn’t even have time to scream.
He’d counted himself
happy, even fortunate,
before.
Now he can’t
lay his head on a pillow
put a fork in his mouth
step through a door
without being afraid
of what might clamp down
like the unseen jagged teeth
of a bear trap.
Scott’s poems have either recently appeared or are scheduled to appear in THE 2 RIVERS VIEW, ECLECTICA, and THE LOCUST MAGAZINE. His most recent poetry collection is GOD’S WILL (Mad Rush Press). His most recent anthology appearance is EVERY RIVER ON EARTH (Ohio University Press). He lives and writes in southeastern Ohio in a former Amish farmhouse that isn’t haunted — yet.
