October 2026 - Vol. 23, Issue 5

That night, at the Iowa State Fair,

my head throbs, like a balloon ready

to explode. “I want to go home,” I cry.

Mother won’t listen.  “You nagged us,”

she screams.  “So here we are.”

Bert lifts me onto his shoulders.  I like

riding high until Renee begs for a turn.

Finally, we find the car and drive home.

“Polio,” doctors announce next morning.

Then order me to a long hospital stay.

Alone in the isolation ward, homesick,

scared, a nurse wraps me in stinky hot packs.

Days later, I’m wheeled out for a steam-bath.

One naked boy, strapped to a wooden board,

is there in the water.  I see his penis

floating like a dead worm.  Someone

says he’s paralyzed from the neck down.

Eighteen endless days later Renee stands

on the back of the wheelchair.   We roll down

the hall and through the door to freedom.

Back home, Pete from down the street walks

with a limp.  Patty drags a steel brace on one leg.

Kids are trapped in iron lungs.  We see it on

Gramma’s television.  I lift heavy sand bags every

day and everyone tells me I’m lucky.