Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Wipe - by Debbie

I've been in this line
for over an hour.

No one talks...
what's the point?

Paper rustles
as we each reread
the notices received
a month before,
with a date and time
and a warning
to not eat or drink
the morning of the Procedure.

It'll be quick, they say.
Just a tweak
of synapses,
won't hurt a bit.

And then voilĂ :
no more grief
no more stress
no more angsting
no more

Can't wait
but look:
it's my turn now.
Step up now,
hand over my docs.

Wet on my cheek...
where did that come from?
My hand goes up to my face
but then falls
because now I'm thinking
just maybe
it will help me remember
help me


  1. There are some places we don't want to go
    And some places we don't want to talk about
    And some acts that are best left unsaid.

    This is one of them.

    Just do it
    And wash your hands afterwards!

  2. It's never clear
    Not anymore.
    How is it that once
    I could actually think,
    Could actually feel,
    Without a haze to darken
    The meanings, the reasons?
    I wish that I could simply
    Lift my hand,
    Raise a cloth,
    Fill a bucket,
    Release a breath--
    Anything to wipe away the blurs
    And make things crisp again.

  3. wipe

    Instead of letting
    the tear
    stream down her cheek,
    she felt compelled
    to wipe it away.

    But another fell,
    and another.
    Her hand kept
    but she couldn’t

    Instead of letting
    the memory
    stream across her mind,
    she felt compelled
    to wipe it away.

    But another came,
    and another.
    Her mind kept
    but she couldn’t

  4. Wipe

    Spilled milk
    Rain on a windshield
    A single teardrop


    A broken life
    Shattered trust
    Dashed hopes

    Pieces that remain