Recurrent
Every time I leave the hospital,
I give something new of myself away–
a certain shyness I can no longer hold
close to my body, the deeper cravings
for a cigarette that will likely not come.
Instead, I turn and toil in the ICU,
sleep only in bursts, and then
when I am freed to the outside world again
the bigness of it all has so much new
choice and flavor, suddenly–
the heat wave? just a little
needed warmth–
and I am glad to be home again
and yet I also miss being able
to push a button, receive
some limited care until I am
sick again.
13 thoughts on "Recurrent"
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especially love how that sensory grace note or breath of the third stanza works in the story
( i see you)
get well soon!!
😞💔
I, too, like the placement of the third stanza.
Just a few words, yet carry so much feeling and meaning;
the heat wave? just a little
needed warmth–
I like the poem
your struggle
your resolve
(glad you’re back
home)
Bless your heart, Shaun.
I love how your mention of the heat made me feel the over-air-conditioned hospital with you. Take care!
I was particularly struck by these lines in the first stanza:
“I give something new of myself away–
a certain shyness I can no longer hold
close to my body”
And the third stanza:
“the heat wave? just a little
needed warmth”
If I never enter another hospital, it will be too soon.
Take care!
Love the ending
Love everything about this one for it’s simplicity which is not meant to be backhanded one bit. Thank you for the kindness throughout every LexPoMo
There’s a lot of originality here to admire
Like the verbs here, turn and toil, freed — and “the bigness of the world” — outside one’s cocoon.
Instead, I turn and toil in the ICU,
sleep only in bursts, and then
when I am freed to the outside world again
the bigness of it all has so much new
choice and flavor, suddenly–
the heat wave? just a little
needed warmth–
Such strong lines. Glad you are home again.