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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Satire · #2016351
Let's hear it for magic.
The second night in the hospital was worse.
  (...life, usually preferable to death, affirmation
  to sacred pulse, the inhalation of breath,
  to that sweet nectar defined as living,
  acknowledging that doctors, nurses,
  hospital personnel indeed played a hand
  in my care and my eventual recovery,
  I must now straightforwardly assert
  it was Magic’s love which saw me through,
  delivery being a fixed idea of such a mind set
  beyond ken of mere mortals such as myself,
  consistent as the captain of all cosmic existence,
  zeal ranging from light laughter to heavenly rapture,
  a survivor--me--in the hands of this Magic
  being a conduit for efficacious mend,
  recognizing the human hands-on busywork
  ala IV’s, hypodermics, vials of blood and lab
  application, siphoning of bodily fluid
  via catheter, to wit, the pernicious virus
  having been verified--or the humble, hard-working
  maid who with gloves and bleach and sponge
  sanitizes commode and sink and tile wall
  without so much as a finger lift from Magic...
  nevertheless I have to say as I stand here
  before you, so glad to be well, that it was
  Magic’s love which carried me, Magic’s
  love which shall be credited above all
  these other simple, incidental, so-so
  and hum-drum human trivialities...)
I am so glad to be well.


30 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
10-29-14

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