Bellyaches originate in a forest
of as many organs you can imagine, assaulting each other
tree bark hung like Christmas lanterns on the border
that fall and kiss the **** floor come January.
When you cry out, remember anyone can kiss and make up
and I will remember too. Even your most painful places.
Inflammation is clouds billowing on sunny days,
digestion is their migration to the next downtown over,
your body is just nature, and nature is always, always right.
All too often, we believe we are a cathedral
of glass that can be stained and hit by baseball seams:
bellyaches are hiccups that do not dance out of your mouth
earthquakes are from monkeys hopping
from vine to vine, realize hurt exists because you are alive.