A Medical Catalog

I got my second shot, but she did not –
they took one look and her and said “Not now.”
Her eyes were swollen shut, her skin was hot;
her doctor doesn’t know the why or how.

A client died of Covid – he seemed well
until he wasn’t. Doctors couldn’t block
the dread cascade of organ failure hell
(he wasn’t old or ill – we’re still in shock).

My children’s dad has problems with his heart
that brought an ambulance, some tests, a scan,
and soon the surgeon’s knife. He’s still a part
of family – we care about the man.

But topping all the news of pain and death,
we celebrate a baby drawing breath.

Posted in Coronaverse, Family, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Use It or Lose It

The dentist asked me how I’d travel home.
“I walk.” “Up Market Street?” He looked aghast.
But I’ve been walking all my life. I roam
the streets to work or shop. My pace is fast
and purposeful – I look and use my ears,
and though I’ve seen and heard some off-their-meds
or heads, in truth, in over 50 years,
I met no threat to make me stop my treads.

The muggings are reported in the news
as happening in areas of wealth.
The streets are safer where more people choose
to walk, so pace for several sorts of health.
Catalysis by fear exacts a cost –
If we stay in, our culture will be lost.

Posted in Home, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Displacement

Away and off five days feels like a week
or more, although I’d never opt for home
when Sam requires company, to speak
a bit about big change but mostly play
together, as he teaches his technique
for screening semi-terrible cartoons
(at least it isn’t Elmo). Now we peek
at newborn sis. I pen a paltry poem,
and bend to stroke and kiss a silken cheek.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Family, Love, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Returning

Precious to return
home, no matter the reason
for time spent away.

Posted in Home, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Anniversary Villanelle

When we began this fractious quarantine,
I feared sequester might exceed three weeks.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

Our fate was like a busted trampoline –
we tolerated broken springs and squeaks
when we began this fractious quarantine.

Some fell and others stumbled, caught between
conspiring fears and factual techniques.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

Politicizing masks and spitting mean,
we didn’t know our fellows could be freaks,
when we began this fractious quarantine.

Some reasoned but so many were unclean,
ignoring soap because the soapbox speaks.
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

It’s near a year, and still we all careen.
We’ve fallen and no longer see the peaks.
When we began this fractious quarantine,
I never dreamed how plague would intervene.

(Villanelle)

Posted in Civics, Coronaverse, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My Second Shot

My second shot, I’m fortunate to write,
was painless and no hassle to obtain.
The venue wasn’t crowded and the chain
of volunteers was organized and tight,
directing us with smiles masked but bright,
conducting an inoculation train –
my second shot.

My arm is sore, I’m tired, I feel light
in energy. It’s nothing to complain
about – a grumble wouldn’t be germane
or accurate. My age meant expedite
my second shot.

(Rondine)

Posted in Aging, Coronaverse, Health, Poetry | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

Welcome

I got my second shot a week ago –
they say I may in 7 days proceed
exploring more of what I used to know
last year before the fear of flu appeared.
Now I’m some time away from home, although
I’m relatively comfortable right here –
these days amazed to watch the household grow.
I get to meet the sweet they grew from seed –
an infant who last year was embryo.

(Magic 9)

Posted in Coronaverse, Family, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Meditation/Medication

I had a bout of strong anxiety
a month ago. I recognized the stress,
although at first I worried I might be
about to have a stroke. I was a mess
and then resolved attempting to relax:
to slow my breath and strengthen my exhale.
I tried to counteract the sharp attacks.
I didn’t fully win or fully fail.

I have a friend who panicked yesterday –
she called and tried to get MD advice.
Between some cancellations and the way
her iPad wouldn’t work (it locked up twice),
she soon demanded pills to calm her nerves.
She didn’t opt to tap her own reserves.

Posted in Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

It’s Still Too Soon

It’s still too soon to socialize with you
in person – we must manage via phone.
That second shot we get this week is known
to carry strong protection – that seems true –
but we are told to let its power brew
another fortnight into strength full-blown.
It’s still too soon.

I owe my bubble care until we’re through
the staggered quarantine we don’t condone.
Until my kids are covered, we must groan
alone. You asked although I know you knew
it’s still too soon.

(Rondine)

Posted in Coronaverse, Health, Poetry | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Venal People

I wonder how bad actors sleep at night.
When famous athletes lie, it boggles me.
It’s obvious they aren’t thinking right –
with no regard to their mortality.
Their actions can’t produce true self-esteem.
Their treasures must disable them with murk.
They cannot own enough – gold turns to steam,
that came without morality and work.

They’re after short-term gain and solo fame –
their focus isn’t building dynasties.
Venality and vice are not supplies
they’d use to love themselves. So please don’t claim
they’re great, and don’t invoke conspiracies,
to comprehend a cheater spewing lies.

Posted in Civics, Philosophy, Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment