Sunday, April 12, 2015

Poem a Day, #11 (damage)

My husband says he's damaged goods,
But 50 years too late to return him.

The damage is all physical.
Alcohol failed to do its job before
He quit. The liver still good.
He worried about his heart,
His father dead at 54 from
A heart attack.
But it was a different vein that
First spoke up, in his calf
A blood clot, there long enough
To send emissaries to his lungs.
The normal treatment almost
Killed him, blood massing in
Protest in his leg, his hip.
A drug shot into his belly,
twice a day, brings stability for years,
Halting clots before they can

Now and then the blood runs amok,
Can't stay within its boundaries,
Flooding bruises with too many
A bruise graduates to hematoma,
Bringing pain and fear.

So here we are, one more time,
Spending the first spring day
Visiting the ER,
Exiling vials of blood,
Huddling under the CT scan.
Damage to the body continues
Its slow advance. 

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