"tonsillitis" poems
When she was seven, my grandmother suffered from fever and swollen glands. The doctors believed her tonsils were inflamed, that she needed surgery. Instead, she went to a curandera. The curandera divined that a jealous relative had cast a curse on her and, now, her language of kindness was bound to her throat, the unspoken swelling her glands.
As a child my grandmother spoke to santitos with a voice like a chestnut: ruddy and warm, seeds dropping from her mouth. The santitos would take her words into themselves, her voice growing within them like grapevines.
During the tonsillitis, when the words no longer fell like seeds from her lips, the santito's vineyards of accent and voice grew vapid, dry as a parched mouth. They went to her tongue and asked why silence imprisoned the words of the child, why lumps were present under her chin, why tears drew channels down her cheeks.
I asked my grandmother how her tongue replied. After touching my cheek, she told me she had a dream that night: She was within her lungs and she rose like breath through the moist of her throat. She remembered her tonsils swinging before her like fleshy apples, then a hand taking them into a fist, harvesting their sound. She told me her throat opened in two spots like insect eyes and the names of her children came flying through her wounds like peacocks.
Patting my thigh, she said, "That is why the name of your mother is Maria, because she is a prayer, a song of praise to the Holy Mother."
She told me this, then showed me two scars on her throat—tiny scars, like two eyelids stitched closed.
st - 20 mar 14
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
It’s about now that my brother,
like some atomic clock for childhood illness,
gets the annual razor blade throat of tonsillitis.
As much as it’s a pain for him,
has he no consideration for me?
Who’ll be better than me
at playing with my toys now?
Dad?
Pfffft.
Dec 22, 2020
Dec 22, 2020 at 4:07 AM UTC
is it that you desire
to stuff your tongue
down my throat, playing
“loves me, loves me not”
to the melody
of my choking, guttural
pleas of “no more”
no more lies, no more
deceit spun off the tip of your
***** tongue.
take your tastebuds back;
i’ll taste my own truths.
i don’t like this
tonsillitis, i can’t
soothe it
like kids do.
lactose intolerant, and
struggling to tolerate
the way your eyes shimmer
like you’re enjoying this
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
I had a little headache
Slightly increasen over time
Nothing really
UNTIL NOW
11.30pm
I'm not fine
My throat is harsh
My ears do sing
with a gentle humming pain
Excruciating is my head
Body shivers
in my bed
Tonsillitis has come a calling
Like a torturis leeching stain
Creeping in
Your unaware
It's so unfair
Then swallows you whole
In a torrent of fevers, delirium
right down to your soul
Jan 27, 2018
Jan 27, 2018 at 10:55 PM UTC
You sold cookies for a living and knew my order well. You'd sneak me free ones and smile a smile only meant for me.
I told you about the boy who thew a vase at my head and you held me and told me you'd never do anything to hurt me. Stupidly, I believed you.
I told my friends about you, my mum about you, about the boy with Hazel eyes who made me laugh and my heart sing and who saw the good in everyone.
You asked me to the cinema and I was so excited, I straightened my hair and did my make-up, something I never do but I wanted to impress the boy who made my heart sing.
I met you outside, you wore a blue shirt and told me I looked pretty as you bought us tickets to Guardians of the Galaxy 2. To this day, I can't watch that film.
We sat at the back and you used my full name to ask me to be yours and even though I hate my full name, I let you and I said yes.
You smiled and in that moment, made me the happiest girl in the universe.
You told me you had tonsillitis and I told you I didn't care and you kissed me and I blushed as you told me you had butterflies and I told you I did too.
We played Air-Hockey after the film and I thrashed you (I knew I would). My dad gave you a lift home, you charmed him, I thought everything was good.
For the next three days, you were the centre of my world and I thought I was the centre of yours.
You told me you'd plan something for my birthday, told me about all the dates we'd go on, told me I was pretty every day.
Until you sent me the text that blew up my world.
I told you that you looked cute today and you responded with,
"I'm not feeling it anymore"
Four little words. That's all it took to destroy us.
A week passed.
You got a new girlfriend and I was left with tonsillitis and a shattered heart, wondering what I did wrong.
I didn't speak for a month, cried so much I thought I'd drown and you didn't even care.
I wonder if you ever cared at all.
Feb 1, 2021
Feb 1, 2021 at 10:04 PM UTC
Been sleeping on my bed
for the last 48 hours
Cannot open my eyes so wide
A throbbing pain in the head
Cannot swallow well too
My throat screams in pain
It hurts so bad every time i try to eat or drink
just like having small blades hiding in my throat
Tonsillitis I hate it
Its swelling now , all red and painful
My enemy number 1
Hate you so bad..
Need to rest few days
Hate to be helpless....
But I succumbed to doc's advice
REST................ before I can start to teach again..
What's a teacher without her
precious voice?
ok so all i do is rest..................
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
Ladies and gentlemen, stop and behold
Bid farewell to shingles, to gout and the cold
And a mighty assortment of general malaises
From cranial trauma to scratches and grazes
Your bones will be mended, no need for a cast
With acute tonsillitis consigned to the past
For I bring you a medical miracle cure
And the name of this potion you’re sure to procure?
Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture
From the institute of Scarborough
With a measured twist of alchemy
And three lumps of macabre
A drop or two will beat the flu
Retracting recent sneezes
Buy Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture
For all manner of diseases
Pungent red syrup can clearly be spied
Past the decorative label adorned on the side
A drop eases aching, a second for pains
A capful should rapidly unblock your drains
With daily consumption, whilst not recommended
The length of your tongue will be vastly extended
Avoid naked flames, never jiggle or jolt
Keep it cool, in the dark, in a circle of salt
Doctor Morcomb’s Tincture!
Most marvellous of potions
Farewell to bitter tasting pills
To liniments and lotions
Take only by the moonlight
And in arms reach of a swan
Now buy as much as time affords
By sundown, I’ll be gone
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
Terracotta robots zapping rodents.
Ongoing Zagreb building projects.
Witches, milk floats and Vauxhall cars in Bill's head.
You got Tonsillitis from licking prostitutes’ rancid toes.
Towel used for a century; six frayed threads on its length.
Novel bus design; the driver drives from upstairs.
You drink Earl Grey tea, cold.
I so **** hate slow tardy days dragging till I get my dole for a new tattoo.
Signed on Fri, a 3 day wait till pay day.
It may not be paid right.
Twits!
Nebulous screwdrivers in the sky.
Take me away from the clouds to a desert landscape.
Tattoo my earlobe you minky moo.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC