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Your Autumn
by Kristina WoodhillYou and Frankenstein's monster
shared the same seamstress this October
a stitch in your time line is caught in a jammed bobbin
but you are not a monster, you are not a monster
your hairline is neatly six-inch sewn
nothing jagged from a crazed Dr. Needle
when the townswomen came for you,
calmly picking raspberries on a quiet morning,
you did remark the flicker flying above
kept its one-note song piercing your oblivion
bug in the belfry,
let me at it,
bug in the belfry,
just let me get near
pitchforks waved fare thee well
from farm to where many helping hands attend
off with her head, the man in white said
now that's a shocking thrill
you were whisked, hugged, inspected
deflected, sawed, and drilled,
something about a partial lift-off;
I bet you saw stars!
hope and purpose reattached,
gravity realigned like the steady orbits
of wide ranging planets like red, red mars
they say the removal went well
but for long fingers holding your future hostage
when the bolts from above, in the coming,
disperse your voice
I can talk for you,
I can scream for you
when the mixed elixirs, in the coming,
hit your stream
I can talk for you,
I can scream for you
and in the meantime
i'll be searching through my backstock
of carefully labeled precious jars
for the perfect
brand new shiny brain
10/10/2012
Author's Note: A dear friend was noticed by her teacher friends to be having trouble talking and moving at parent teacher conferences. The next day three of them went to her house and convinced her and her husband something was seriously wrong. Thankfully she let them take her to the ER, she underwent surgery for an aggressive brain tumor. The future is tentative, yet without her friends she would have been gone in a matter of weeks.
Posted on 10/10/2012
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joan Serratelli on 10/10/12 at 06:49 PM An unbelievable, yet quite real to me . I REALLY can relate in a highly personal mannner to this. I've had brain surgery and need to have it again. I WISH the surgeon in my reality is as good as this piece is. You really nailed it. Take from someone who has been there.Thanks- you did this so masterfully! |
| Posted by Jim Benz on 10/10/12 at 07:24 PM My wife and I have lost three people to cancerous brain tumors--one of them was the 10 year old son of some friends. Knowing what they and their loved ones went through during numerous operations and successive treatments, always holding their heads high and getting on with life, makes your poem that much more poignant. Thank you, Kristina. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 10/11/12 at 05:11 AM Gosh, seems I'm not the only one with friends who've had "sudden" discovery of brain tumors. (I will add your friends to my prayers). This is an amazing description of what is happening allegorically.
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| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 10/13/12 at 07:08 PM Wow! It's amazing what poetry can come from a situation as you've described, Kris. Cancer, especially that of the brain, is a scourage I too have lost friends to. And it's frustrating, while encouraging at the same time, that we make progress, albeit in baby steps. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 11/10/12 at 12:07 PM I think every poet is a Dr. Frankenstein, and I think every poem is a monster in the making with the potential to be misunderstood, to have crowds milling about and clamoring for its destruction, those milling about being the critics. I think, Miss Frankenstein, that you have stitched yourselves a marvelous monster, not in the least stumbling and lacking none of the mental faculties that would make it less than highly articulate and forthcoming. |
| Posted by David Maurice on 11/24/12 at 07:33 AM I truly like how the sense of the season is brought forth and maintained throughout this tale of duality and fragility. |
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