ENDURANCE

Tonight my husband tries on
bright green athletic sleeves
he was given after his last ultra run.
He runs over mountains now
to feel peaceful,
since his mother's stroke
he needs to regain his breath.
His brain hides at night
in a cave somewhere near my breast,
sleeping his mother's lost life.
I've learned too well
the spell of this endurance contest,
his difficult safari
like a trail cutting through our bed.

THE HEALING CLINIC

In the lobby
patients float like sailboats.
The receptionist wears
European Clogs,
books on healing
line the walls.

I stick my hand inside my shoe,
touch my metatarsal flesh
where pain is my baby
that never quiets.

A patient wearing a scarf
around her scalp
smoothes a book in her lap
as if caressing an exotic rabbit.
Dry tears have peppered this room
with wildfire.

I don't even have
a final diagnosis,
yet the receptionist
is giving me her moonlit smile.
pointing to the hall
and rising.

PLAYING THE BABY

I played the role of
"new born" my first months of life.
During infancy

Mom swaddled me,
then put me in a film--
I was an equity infant actor
smeared with cream cheese
and red jam, to look newborn.

Featured in TV shows.
Imagine
how glamorous.
My baby's brain thinking:

I am here for
all these good looking people.

Cream cheese

and red jam.

Later, I learned how
sea turtles have
backward pointing spines
to swallow Jellyfish easier,
and I remember my mother

having the right assets--
swallowing the money,
because we needed it to live.

---

Tag: Meg Pokrass