Posts for June 29, 2021 (page 3)

The Body Donation Program at the University of
Cincinnati College of Medicine, allows an individual to
make a lasting and meaningful contribution to medical
science.

Any cerebellum I can spare in my extremis
may be of interest, particularly one appearing
on an MRI with some bits of atrophy.

At the time of death, the remains must be transported
by a funeral home or private ambulance service to the
University of Cincinnati College of Medicine.

All vertical I ride, in passing churches, homes,
the bars and bike trails, gardens and mountains
of my O so many endearing decades.

During normal working hours, the transporter should contact
the Department of Medical Education stating there is a body

namely mine

to be delivered to the department and the approximate time of
arrival.

N.B. transporter: no business lunches at The Parlor

Regardless of day and/or time all donors are transported
to the Cincinnati College of Mortuary Science for storage
and preparatory work. The Department of Medical Education
has facilities to store the remains of one hundred and forty
persons on stainless steel trays adjacent to a well-equipped
preparation room.

The stiff expected is the first selected.

After all studies have been completed, the body is cre-
mated and the ashes are either returned to the family
or interred in a University plot at Spring Grove
Cemetery.

It is a far far better thing that I am teaching here than
I have ever taught before, these students maybe brighter
ones than any I have ever known.

http://www.med.uc.edu/BodyDonation

I have been nodding noonish all June
Henceforth, I declare this season as
           my Summer of Naps
                       hammock dozes
                               beach chair catnaps
                                         sofa snoozes
happy with nappytime hair
            I shall hit the hay midday
                          a siesta, if I may,
   to heal what last year broke in me
             my Big Plans knapsack
                          bulging with unread books
                                     can just stay slouched in the corner

the first thing it tells me is to stop crying
which i haven’t quite gotten to yet
reminds me of my hollows;
you look pretty good down here, but you ain’t really good
carves them deeper
soothes me with the kiss of the chorus;
they told me that the end is near
flies me to the moon to watch the world turn
holds me like i’m exempt from the shackles
engraved with my name
stop your crying, baby, it’ll be alright
and when the bridge starts, so do the white spots
dancing across my clenched eyes
will we ever learn?
never if it’s anything to do with me
we’ve been here before
and it’s where i live
it’s just what we know
it pats my cheeks dry and takes my shaking hand
we gotta get away, we got to get away

I.
We pulled the dishwasher      
out from under the counter.   
A corrugated copper pipe
connected the machine
to the hot water valve
beneath the sink.
It was warm to the touch.  

II.
Wooly bears predict the weather.
Wide rusty bands
with black on the ends, 
should mean a mild winter.  

III.
Stationary – not moving or changing.
How long does it take to watch
40 seasons of Survivor,
23 Marvel movies,
75 episodes of Alone?
Not as long as you would think.  

IV.
Stationery – writing materials.
You buy me post-its and purple pens.
The good ones.
That don’t smudge.  

V.
All day you stand in front of 500° ovens.
At home you shiver in mittens
and socks made of llama wool.
I bring home the tiny heater
from my classroom
to keep you warm.  

VI.
Roasted kale and shitake mushrooms,
rich in copper,  
sit in sheet pans on the stove.
Salads with purple pickled eggs,
beets, thinly sliced radishes,
sprigs of fresh herbs.    

VII.
Seven years of pride(s).
Seven years of work.
Seven years of love.
Seven years of marriage.

They’re always in the middle of a conversation
I wish I had an invitation to

The man closest to me is full of conundrums
“Do I need an intervention if I’m addicted to interventions?”

If asked, I would muster the best answer I could
“I think it loses its power once you’re taking enjoyment from it.”

They’re always so hard on themselves too
Just last week, the woman appeared to be lost

“I love watching kids do things. They have no shame
and I have so, so much shame.”

If asked, I would remind her that kids have it easy
“If you had grownups waiting on you 24/7 you wouldn’t have any either.”

Oftentimes I wonder what they might say to me
if I released my concerns into our shared air

“I’m afraid no one really knows me and they have no interest in trying to.”
He tells me to buck up or he’ll do what he does best

“An intervention can’t happen if no one is there to intervene.”
She says that I can’t accept the love I don’t think I deserve

“Sometimes the advice you need to hear most
is the kind you would give to others freely.”

Give
me your hand
                 so I can tug you up,
                 pull you to this new peak,
                 see the sun study your face,
                 steal your feet from the cement,
                 to, at long long last, give you the sky.

“Just before our love got lost, you said,
‘I am as constant as a northern star…,’ Oh,
I could drink a case of you, darling, & I
would still be on my feet.” -“A Case of You” by Joni Mitchell

i think about the irises
of our eyes
& how we condemn ourselves
by looking deep into them:

an earthy green that makes you feel
endless, the blue of the sky
on a clear day, or (God,
why do you make me remember
this one?) a color that you just
cannot remember—-& every day,
it seems that more & more details fade
& fade…

as i think about our reminiscence fading,
i can’t help but shake
the thought of losing, shrinking—-getting smaller,
yet every day the lonely hole
inside of my soul grows
& grows—-hosting the most beautiful
creatures of longing, & instead,
i learn to believe that i, therefore,
contain multitudes

& despite my self-expansiveness,
i drive through the mountains,
passing the trees & lakes & streams

& everything seems so
small—-myself, the smallest of all

& it’s marvelous,
out there

tellings:
slender woman
my Mammaw
just shy of five feet
–was a lot of tall in her–
poker-faced her way
into an all-night
high stakes
5-card stud game
toddler in tow
to collect
my Daddy Pa
her fist hard-shoved
in apron pocket
Time to come home Aut
burly miners jumped
chairs tumbled
Daddy Pa folded

Been in comfort
of home for 26 minutes;
Bags sprawled
across the living room floor,

torn open: t-shirt’s leaving a trail
to the wash, tiny
pretzel bags from the airport
half open next to me
on the couch, and shoes
pitched down the hall—

the perfect time
for a guest
to joyfully knock
and barge in
leaving not even a second
to scurry the unwashed
bra by the door
into the next room.

comforting and silly
sweeter than the spirits I’m used to
familiar like the abandoned horse farm
where I drank your intoxicating poison-
a bitter shock to my unsuspecting palate