Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Sunday, January 11, 2015

Gideon's Daughter

On the table, my breath held, the CAT scan
Looks inside for the tiny stone that says "No."
No flow. No go. Like a baby that won't be born.
A reluctant birth, here at the start of my old age.
There's nothing to do but be a kind of drainage,
And hope that, though painful, nothing's torn.

I finally figured why my daughter stands off so:
(The stone can wait.) because I'm not a good man.

Another one about old age. The last, I hope.