Gas Attack

At 20 I was seized with torso pain,
affecting breath and posture. At a guess,
the doctor said gall bladder ill was plain
(which really was bad gas from too much stress).
I learned from that how nervous I can be
(that’s different from hysterical, you see),
and watched my chews and even yawns and sips
(a second, better, doctor gave me tips).

In 50 years since then, I’ve rarely had
attack recur, but yesterday I felt
my belly bloom with gas beyond my belt,
and stabbing pain mid-back. It drove me mad,
until I thought of Covid, politics,
my kids. I’m taking care; I know the fix.

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Another Pause

Nine months ago, I felt I wouldn’t catch
Coronavirus (stupid thing to say –
like everyone, I’d no idea what batch
of viral particles it takes to slay),
but lately things feel different – yesterday
I learned the nanny in our bubble’s ill.
We hope it isn’t Covid, but I’ll stay
at home, alone, respectful of the drill.

(Huitain)

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(Year) End in Sight

I never lived a stranger year than this:
beset by dire virus we don’t fight;
our so-called leaders dim as we witness
their derelictions flaunted in plain sight;
the CEOs and generals remiss;
our institutions fraught and breaking right.
And I’m so slow it takes all this to show
me 2020’s badly good-to-go.

(Ottava Rima)

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Lootin’ for Putin

I’m still addicted to the nightly news,
and not surprised to hear that 45
attempts to wreck the lobby, and abuse
as much as possible while we evict
him from the white hotel. We won’t excuse
the damage, but we can’t restrain the rat.
We grit our teeth and bear the days till Blues
return. If there’s a deal Trump must contrive,
it’s aiding Vlad – he’s paying business dues.

(Magic 9)

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My Humble Perspective

Concluding long ago God must be great
enough that It would never act as low
as human emperors, I didn’t hate
religion but I knew too much to throw
anthropomorphic attitude around.
A deity deserving of respect
would not require foreheads on the ground
or posture bending deep to genuflect.

In lesser news, if this democracy
is tender as the talking heads report,
then it was never what we all believe.
I think we’re vigorous. It seems to me
our pillars won’t be tumbled by his sort.
It’s that or too gargantuan to grieve.

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One for Each Decade and Another for Good Luck

My oldest friend is 70 today.
We met when we were each around 15.
Precocious we agreed about the way
to analyze our lives for what they mean.
I know there were some differences between
us, but we recognized we were adults
at 5, impelled to strive, our courses keen
and disparate, to similar results.

(Huitain)

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Political Awakening

I guess since I was 6 and heard my dad
say he would not vote for the President,
I started understanding grownups had
their differences about our government.
But everyone agreed democracy
and righteous fairness is our legacy
and fortune, sharing values deep within –
Americans at heart, beneath our skin.

But lately I’ve been slapped about the head
with evidence my old perspective’s wrong.
I’m watching Reds’ attempt to cheat along
with lying and suppressing votes, instead
of standing for the ethical and fair.
Apparently we don’t agree, or care.

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Biology Class

Planaria I recollect a bit,
and how the legs of frogs resemble ours,
but vivid is reserved for when we hit
the cranium of fetal pig. It jars
me even now – our sample’s brain unfit,
that puddled out like pudding. My memoirs
should be significant, I always thought,
but memory must live on what it caught.

(Ottava Rima)

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First Rain

We had a little tease of rain last week.
Now I can hardly wait for it to pour.
I love it when the sky begins to leak,
when I’m outside in boots and hooded coat
or better, in my room with my technique
for coziness, my comforter and fire,
my windows sporting rivulet and streak,
contented while I’m hungering for more
precipitation downward or oblique.

(Magic 9)

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The Backstory

A business partner did me wrong and sued
(this happened 20 years ago, or so).
I burned to tell the story – not to brood
but more, I thought, to let my lawyer know
exactly what led up to the betrayal.
“Please write the whole thing down,” he said to me.
I did. I sent a narrative email
and left him to develop strategy.

The next time we conferred, I was surprised.
“You got my email?” “Sure,” he voiced, although
“What did you think?” received as his reply
“I didn’t read it,” and he chuckled low.
“You didn’t write those words for me,” he said.
“The exercise was all for you, instead.”

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