Life
in Slow Motion
He gets out of bed, shuffles
to the kitchen,
pours his coffee, his milk,
stands in the door
deciding whether to sit at
the table or
shuffle to the sofa.
Conversations odd. He begins
mid-sentence, pauses, his
mind
goes over what he was saying,
what he might say,
does he really deserve a bowl
of ice cream?
Pain does weird things; it
pulls us,
bends us, requires us to
always acknowledge it,
take meds to placate it,
take meds to dull it, to dull
us.
The fractured sternum heals,
that pain lessens
as he holds the pillow close
to cough.
The arthritis in his neck
continues to grow; slow,
deliberate, excruciating
pain.
More pain--slower movements,
more pills, more patches,
more moans. Thoughts
slide on quiet clouds of
Morpheus,
life in slow motion isn't
life at all.
Lenora
Rain-Lee Good lives and writes in
Kennewick, Washington and shares her abode with her cat, Tashiko Akuma Pestini.
She has sold four novels, numerous short stories, a few radio dramas, and her
poems have appeared in various venues including Anthology on Motherhood and In
Transit: Poetry of People on the Move.
Lenora Rain-Lee,
ReplyDeleteSad, but still beautiful. I really enjoyed it. Welcome to Whispers! I love cats too, could be the source of inspiration for your next poem? Your decision, of course.
Your new friend,
David Fox
David, I'm delighted you like my sad little poem. For some reason Tash hasn't entered my poetry so much, but has shown up now and then in short essays ;-)
DeleteLenora,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this poem
Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed the poem.
DeleteA powerful use of imagery. Very touching. Thank you for sharing this with us.
ReplyDeleteMolly, you're very welcome. thank you for the kind words.
ReplyDelete