I got pneumonia again.
This time I refused hospitalization.
And it was like I imagine hospice care
Should be.

My parents did not smell the smells.
Did not wear the gowns.
Did not wear the masks.
Did not grow ever depressed.

Instead they fussed and tended,
While my sister and girlfriend shopped,
And my pups and housemate worried.
For this, my sixth bout in five years.

My body is completely unrealiable.
My mind knows that time, or lack thereof,
Is pressing me on.
I write between afflictions. You?

1 Comment

  • By Robin Byrd, June 2, 2011 @ 2:34 pm

    “I write between afflictions.” Such a moving line. Thanks for the wonderful poetry.

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