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Support Group
by Linda FullerWaiting in the left turn lane
we tumble-roll our hands,
point right then left,
sing our hearts out with Gladys
and her pips.
Alison loses her breath,
hunts and catches it
as I maneuver us through
congested arteries to the hospital.
A handicap placard is a handy thing,
and we park close to the double doors
which breathe open and inhale us.
We’re late and hurry
slowly down the hall
up one floor in the elevator
through another door, and on the floor
outside the meeting room a cigarette butt
like a smashed caterpillar in a salad.
The beautiful woman complains
she has never been so fat
in all her life
one year after her new heart
(prednisone readies these bears for winter
building fat against need).
She shows us pictures of herself
looking sick but slim
two days after transplantation.
Bananas, grapes, papaya
waiting to be cut
on a tray in the middle of the table.
Across from me, John sits quietly
beside his sweet wife;
the black eye patch
fails to lend him piratical rakishness.
I try not to stare at the crease in his temple,
want to lean over the fruit,
kiss his crooked mouth.
Serafina just wants enough air
to sing in church.
Josef worries he will love
differently with someone else’s heart.
Everyone turns off their oxygen to light
the birthday candle for a one-year heart.
Home, I snuggle in bed and open
The Mammoth Book of Zombies.
My dog curls into me,
a comma to my clause.
06/25/2010 Posted on 06/25/2010
Copyright © 2024 Linda Fuller
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 06/26/10 at 01:11 AM A very nice write Linda. I never had a transplant just a quad bipass. But they claim I had 4 arteries blocked over 90% and say if I hadn't been taking baby asperin I'd most likely be dead. Again nice write. |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 06/26/10 at 02:28 AM You know, I've always believed that when someone says that their heart skipped a beat, it was because it was that one moment that got someone else's heart going -each skipped beat, is a beginning of a new chance at life...you always remind me of these things both beautiful and bittersweet, that linger long in the blood and lay heavy in the mind. |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 06/30/10 at 02:27 PM I read the tenderness and care in this and a peacefulness -a poet's sensitivity and noticing. And the last two lines speak a return to normalcy and the healing brought by animals - wonderful end to this lovely poem. Thanks. |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/02/10 at 01:12 AM We all breathe. This breaks down life into its most essential elements mixes it with love and the undead to reveal humanity in its purest form. The irony of this is that the animal compliments your humanity while you study the dead. Weaving themes into your reader's DNA is your forte. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/04/10 at 04:26 PM Captivating story poem of one of countless life experiences. Nice cozy close out in that last stanza. |
| Posted by Dane Campbell on 06/16/22 at 06:53 PM Hi Linda,
First, I want to thank you for your recent comment on my poem. Nothing in this life makes me happier than completing a poem I am proud to have written, and validation from a writer of your caliber certainly adds to that sweetness.
I have taken a few moments to comb over your library and was particularly struck by the brilliance of this entry. The imagery is stunning— |
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