Do you think I am over it now?

nat-lipstadt Poems

In 2008, I lay upon the floor, disabled, pain hobbled, my back unable to properly space the Lego discs that keep a man upright king and absolute ruler, was I of the carpet. in the little blue room off the kitchen, where solace in loneliness, was my little heaven in hell. It was my blue period, When you decided to leave And try to take everything But hang around our apartment to practice, practice making misery your profession. It was the same little blue room, years before I ran to, for a few hours rest after tending to you, nursing your cancer needs, fetching, most fetching, I fetched and fluffed, shopped and tended, and comforted, after working all day. Now three years on, on the floor of the same little blue room, unable to move, weakly, wounded, brokebacked, I was a soldier, in a deep trench, almost paralyzed, caught tween desk and bed called your name, even though there was nothing you could have done. Role reversal, years later, roll reversal, roll from the bed to the floor, fallen, immobilized, I rued the morning light, for men must work and women must weep, work and weep, this morning, I was responsible for both. I called you name repeatedly, in a peculiar voice, agreed, the voice of wrack and ruination, after hearing you slippers shuffle a two step at 2 Am, outside the little blue room, oh for many a minute, in the middle of the night, calling, calling perhaps, you would help me to rise, oh yes, just to help me stand, on my bent back, my own legs Somehow one finds a way, is it not always that way? Later, I asked. Did you hear me call you name in the middle of the night? Oh yes. But your voice sounded so weird, I would not go in. Years later, I asked again. Just get over it, you replied, matter of factly. Today, years later, I ask again, right now, right here, I ask but a different question. Do you think I am over it now? Oct 15th 2011