Cheap Shots

It’s that lopsided feeling
after a single thought.
Where every organ in my middle:
the stomach, the kidneys, the liver
even those secret ones
roll over to the far right.

Eyes have no mind for middle
wide open or shut tight.

It’s that feeling
that stops
me
mid-stride.

That tired out,
ugly, cheap-shot thought
that stops
me
mid-stride.

In that pause
when I sigh
and wish
I could be put under
anesthesia, so I can
wake up
after the surgeon is through.

In that pause
as I wait for my middle
to balance out,
I remember that my thought
will not negate Your word.