Ode to tape

The poem that came from my brush with cancer.

Each day you find a way to leave your mark,

from the pocket of blood you harbor

in a mislaid fold

to the pink rose stain under my breast

where the perspiration from night terrors dwell.

 

The darkened stains left from your removal

paint my pale belly to appear like the vineyards

seen in postcards,

the rolling hills of Tuscany.

I wince despite the morphine

like a snail violently exposed from its crevice

my elbow shrinks as the nurse

rips you from my IV,

and my arm hair devotedly follows you.

 

These slights are overlooked at three in the morning

fleeing to the bathroom on a plugged IV.

Your valiant adhesiveness cradles the tube in my veins

as my arm flies back and I snap an indignant “F**k”

not from pain, but the reminder of the machine.

 

It was therapy to watch them pinch the staples out.

What replaced them were thin ribbons of you.

I was assured you would come off in your own time.

I wish I had your sage sticky wisdom.

That I would know when it is time to go.

Reviews

[zig]

sage sticky wisdom

awesome

your writing has really tapped into the real. there is something harsh in your writing, it hides just under the surface... or maybe it doesnt hide, it lives just under the surface. the last line, if not read carefully, can slip away unnoticed, which is kind of clever because i think that waht this poem is about, slipping away unnoticed

please dont slip away unnoticed

zig

[elephant]

I really like this ode to the ordinary.I the same feelings toward boots and shovels they remind of the time i spent in treatment.I really enjoyed everthing about this.I aspire one day to right an ode to shovels.peace and much love