Take a stick to me
I am far away, far, far,
bring me home.
My ring has bent over my finger
from the bangings against the bedpost.
Tell everyone you know
I'm on vacation
down again, down, down,
every couple of years I go, then ever year,
now every few months, every week
every day I stay in bed
hiding from the searchlight.

I'm a hazard to care for.
I disappear inside cafes
with pen and paper and fall
into curbs of blue, black, red
running through the gutters.
I buy a ticket for home, home, home,
but am slowly learning home is
my mere body, not a house or a room
and this body shakes, this body quakes

with side effects, with unanswered questions
with shoulders shaking from your hands
wake up, wake up, you say,
if I can handle this rain,
so can you.

05/22/2006

Posted on 05/22/2006
Copyright © 2024 Lisa Marie Brodsky