Friday, February 16, 2018

Taxidermy

Heart of the lion
represents courage.
Who can defy his
might?

Yet a small bullet aimed
just right, arrests the pulse
stops the
flow.

Instantaneous or slow
life is drained,
no more
hope.

Stuffed trophy head
high on the wall,
marksman treads upon the
paws.

Heart of the child
represents hope.
Yet one fatal aim,
silence.


judith piper
february o3, 2oo8


Sunday, February 4, 2018

Falling together in increments

Symptoms.
Symptoms.
Symptoms.

Doesn't "sym" mean same?
I wonder if "tom" means tome?

The same heavy script.
Over and over.
Again and again.

Some are heavy.
Some are a just a nuisance.
Some are side effects.

Headaches.
Nausea.
Migraines.

Bloating.
Weird tastes.
Tummy spasms.

Brittle, thinning hair.
Wig in the bathtub.
Last appointment, my massage therapist asked, "Did you cut your hair?"

Random purpura on my arms.
Red patches and dots from broken blood vessels.
Beneath my skin.

Eye hemorrhages.
Sometimes I don't know vessels have burst.
Until the person I'm with avoids looking at my eyes.

Tender palms.
Tender soles.
Pain, but only slight.

Back pain.
Leg pain.
Wrist pain.

But not enough for an oxy.

Weakness.
Shortness of breath.
Fatigue.

Brain mud.
Talking self through simple tasks.
Minutia matters.

I'm sure I've left something out.

Like the back spasms a couple months ago.
With burning pain that shot through my groin.
It's gone now.

And muscle atrophy from years of nerve damage.
Toothpick legs.
Shriveled biceps.

Depression.
Anxiety.
Isolation.

Continuous process of balancing.

Do I push now?
Do I rest now?
If I rest, will it be restful?

This too will pass.
There is always a brighter day.
Even my biceps are becoming less shriveled.

I was able to cut my finger nails yesterday.
Without assistance.
Hubby spotted me, just in case.

I have improved
In increments.
Increments matter.

*~*

"Sym" means together.
"Ptom" derives from piptein which means "to fall."

symptom (n.) 1540s, re-Latinized from sinthoma (late 14c.), from Medieval Latin sinthoma "symptom of a disease," altered from Late Latin symptoma, from Greek symptoma "a happening, accident, disease," from stem of sympiptein "to befall, happen; coincide, fall together," from assimilated form of syn- "together" (see syn-) + piptein "to fall," from PIE *pi-pt-, reduplicated form of root *pet- "to rush; to fly" (see petition (n.)).


Monday, January 22, 2018

Ode to Email

Twas a middle-aged lady who lived in a house.
Her functions were many; she wasn't a souse.
She was secretary, cook, cab driver too,
activities planner, home maintenance guru.
Doctor, nurse, janitorial clerk,
counselor, teacher, overseer of work.
Just a few of the functions for which she stayed perked.

Then to add to her list? The computer pimple.
Pop ups and ads, wrinkles and dimples!
Upgrade! Upgrade! It makes your life simple!
But beware of viruses; you need that program too!
And identity theft; so your name is who?
Got too much spam? Pay more and it's through!

First there was junk mail to take up her time
and now more info to boggle the mind.
This middle-aged woman stepped back and breathed deep,
"It's time to make simple this communication heap."

She decided, yes, her email to keep
but now only checks it every two weeks.
So, if her attention you immediately need
please call her by phone to get sooner heed.

carol welch
1999