
Breath & Shadow
April 2008 - Vol. 5, Issue 2
"A Quartet of Poems"
written by
Patricia Wellingham-Jones
1. New downward cycle every three weeks
I pull my body out of bed,
shuffle down the hall,
squint at the furnace buttons,
hope I press 'on'.
Heading back for those last minutes
of body flat on mattress
I notice light spilling
from his room.
He lies cross–wise on the bed,
blanket twisted around his hips,
arms crossed on chest,
whole frame shivering.
Eyes fixed on mine
he says with slurred voice,
"I've had my light on for hours
but nobody came."
"Last time I put my light on
someone came in two minutes.
Where were you?
Isn't anybody on duty?"
I murmur soothing words,
don't even try to explain,
tuck blankets under his chin.
Hours later he resurfaces,
surprised that he lies in a puddle
and I recognize with a sigh
our next downward cycle.
2. Pieces of the Moon
"Pieces of moon fall on your body . . ."
– Janet Thomas
Like pieces of the moon
falling on your body
shards of memory sea glass
on a tide–scoured beach
The you I knew
flies to Saturn
whirls its rings
What's left
a shrinking shell
the smile you beamed at your mother
ghost of the boy you once were
hands clapping
and wringing
knees pressed together
Soon you will leave
the bone frame that holds you
Sail forever into space
But I remember when you
like pieces of the moon
fell onto my body
3. Pillow
With a severe crick in my neck
I gave my friend
the memory–foam
special–form pillow,
the bad–back cure–all
for night–time woes.
She woke each morning
with the expensive wonder
shoved to the side.
Gave it to her friend
whose neck then refused to bend
as she donated it back to me,
that iron–filled wonder.
4. Losses
Plastic straw in a crystal glass
of water tinged with bourbon.
Hamburger patties with bottle BBQ sauce
where once was prime rib rare.
Top denture fallen from slack mouth
where the tight one traveled the world.
Padded briefs instead of
turquoise silk bikinis.
Hands fluttering in sleep–blasted night
that once stroked joy into both bodies.
Keys, friends, loves, favorite foods
disappear–or come back in weird forms.
The most beloved person in the universe.
Who are you?
Originally published in End–Cycle, Poems about Caregiving (2007).
Patricia Wellingham–Jones, PhD, RN, has written Don't Turn Away: Poems About Breast Cancer and End–Cycle: Poems about Caregiving, among others. She is a three–time Pushcart Prize nominee and her work is published in numerous anthologies, journals and Internet magazines. A cancer survivor, she has a longtime interest in 'healing writing' and the benefits people gain from writing and reading their work together.