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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.

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