They tell me the radiologist
\nthey tell me our family doctor
\nthey tell me some specialist
\nthey tell me this:
\nwhen they know something
\nthey will tell me.<\/p>\n
I would rather wait for
\nspring or butterflies
\nor dawn or grandchildren
\nor snail races
\nor the Messiah.<\/p>\n
I have watched the celluloid bomb’s timer tick
\nas our paper hero sweats
\nthe blue wire or the green;
\nI have rewound and replayed
\nour son’s sudden bloody mask
\nrising from brutal baptism
\nafter he waterskied jaw-first into the dock:
\nmemories, fictions,
\nmuddled by time.
\nBut this has a different Dewey decimal:
\nand the devilish drippling derangement
\nof Torquemada’s water torture.<\/p>\n
Each night brings its silent
\nscreaming pre-frontal confrontation
\nwith this betrayal
\nby my body.
\nWhich might be fresh-faced innocent.
\nI toss and turn all day
\nhating the telephone
\nthat interrupts my trance
\nwith friendish digressions.<\/p>\n
It’s not the disease<\/em> The worst part about waiting for health news is not the news, but the damn waiting. #1095 Continue reading
\nI want to scream at the insectoid voice;
\nand if, after the pivotal conversation
\ninterrupts, I am smiling,
\nnow know I still have to fill
\nthe emptiness the waiting has left.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"