Trying to hide a band aid
behind dirt sheets
gave me this infection.
‘Now,’ my doctor says,
‘There’s nothing I can do’
she smiles,
then takes a breath
‘It will either heal itself
Or’
Trailing off
which explained the deep breath,
but not the smile.
She gave me pain pills
so I could adapt to the pain.
I was still waiting
for it to alleviate my long thin
aluminum limb pain
and still speculating as to why she smiled.
Which one of us was that suppose to make feel better?
Author notes
I think the last line killed this already dead poem.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Hmm.
It's interesting, but, a little...odd.
I enjoyed reading it, definatley, but didn't get the poetry feel.
It makes me wonder though.
Why were you hiding the band-aid.
What was infected.
Did it turn out okay.
etc.
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Actually I don't think this is dead. I acutally liked it. It has hidden pain in it. An unanswered question. I liked the way it wasn't explained it was left for the reader to figure it out. It's always nice to be left with a little thinking to do. This poem was pretty good!
Good job!
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