Plague

You’ve got a laugh,
like a smoker with emphysema,
but it grows on me,
like melanoma,
and is contagious,
like streptococcus.

Your voice is everywhere,
like a last stage of cancer,
and whenever you look at me,
my heart gets a case,
of elephantitis,
and when you died,
my gut felt like appendicitis.

You were always,
a disease and,
you spread all over me,
like shingles and,
you left me bare,
like a shade of alopecia,
and I’m left with a strong,
suit of phantom limb.

Reviews

[Odysseus Wanders]

Wow... powerful read. Dynamite in fact. Some many possibilities. The disdain is palpable, like venom. Imagine to be so aware of of the growth, of the infection... this poem is so visceral, it makes me want to scratch my skin off, takes endless showers... and even thought the who or what, that laughed the laugh, may not be around, the laugh itself... the aftermath, still shoots me through. I cant help it. When I read it, i just think of my father and mother in various ways... the details vary. But the point. Is that I feel so deeply affected. So in the read. Your commitment to that theme, courageously unyielding. A gut piece for sure. Nicely spoken. And thank you for this story.

[Emmy J.M. Powell]

Thank you so much! I hope everything with your parents is alright now. 🌙 xx

[Odysseus Wanders]

Well, more importantly, everything is alright with me now... I don't worry about them much... and that's just good enough. Thanks:)