W

I woke to hear the murmurings of a new language:
brainstem compromise, cerebromedullary
disconnection, de-efferented state

My brain
was inundated and turned to slosh
like plains after the flood’s passed through

speech swept away by torrent
vocal cords divorced from breath
expression marooned 
and I am now a silent island  

devoid of movement and of gesture
no matter how I muster will
to signal ‘stop’
or raise a lip-corner of smile

Monotony weighs in, a daily groan
Nurses flit. Fluids enter and exit via tubes
Medical students loom
dangling stethoscopes like rattles

I’m locked in, looking out
tracking the movements of others
who are teaching me
to employ eyelid-flutter as speech

I haven’t achieved competence 
with the new Morse – 
lid movements are effort-laden
my code, indecipherable

so I can’t tell them I’m leaving
that I’ll employ the words
crowding my head, aim their acuity
at the rot, dissect and redefine it  

I’ll fly out through the key-hole
if I have to

They think I’m wallowing in my own
garbage
but I am gathering strength
to soar 

( In memory of Vivian Wilson, honorary Māori chief and All Black, 1899–1978 )   

By the Wayside

Over the drinks

Alise started discussing “us veterans”

as though we had conquered something real.

There were enough stories that day,

our backs bent, the calcium dust we shed as we struggle on towards dotage.

There’s a form of war universally fought against the years.

She had a hit in the 80’s.

Staunch, she faces this foe that always defeats

but that’s not the point.

Later, look her up on google, 251734 results.

Then think back her ex-lover Janet

that careless brilliance the photographs, poems

her singing voice raw with gitanes & clarity.

I think about the “fallen”,

those casualties to narrative,

the ones who shone with promise flared a few years

then disappeared.

…

Belief by Les WicksRead More »