Intermission or Waiting For Godot

Due to a sud­den worsen­ing of my phys­ic­al con­di­tion, I have not been able to pub­lish any­thing here for a while. I hope to be back on track soon, but in the mean­time, here are some poems that I wrote in 2007 about chron­ic ill­ness. Since the same, still undia­gno­ced symp­toms that I wrote the poems about now have come back in full force, I think that this is a fit­ting time cap­sule of Laidi from 2007.

 

It makes one good at swal­low­ing pills
damn good
just give me all you’ve got, everything goes down
I’m not think­ing
any­more

It makes one good at spot­ting the mon­sters
like a sixth sense
white coats
tiny
evil
ham­mers

It makes one scarred at the elbows
like gnarled land­scapes under the skin
harder and harder to find,
the pre­cious

It turns one’s days into one
long
flow
wait­ing for
(Godot)
wait­ing for
a response

It makes one’s will and body
go
sep­ar­ate ways
unfor­tu­nately, we’re still bound by
phys­ics

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *