Maybe I Should Have Hummed Along?
Hello to all of my favorite poets! Okay, so my tied-for-favorite poets since I’m admittedly fond of Mary Oliver and David Whyte and oh so many others, but they don’t read this or share their poetry here, and you do, which makes me adore you. Thank you again for being here. For today’s poem, I’m still working with the prompt from last time . . . picking a place and then playing around with writing more than one poem set in or inspired by that location. I hope you don’t mind another trip to the sauna at my local YMCA! Here goes . . .
Photo by Mike Castro Demaria on Unsplash
Maybe I Should Have Just Hummed Along?
We sit together, six strangers alone in our thoughts and puddles of sweat, ‘til you stride in on a wave of cool air, and now there is music, drumming from your ears. You sprawl between our buttoned bodies like a zipper left open, then whisper-sing at the top of your lungs. I am sure the sauna is smiling with me, shaking sweat from ears, snatching at syllables, determined to decipher your slurring song. I scan the faces for notes of mirth but apparently this isn’t funny, isn’t interesting to anyone but me, which strikes me as just as funny, just as interesting as the whisper-screams of your song. Is there a rule I missed? A tune we all agreed to close our mouths and hum? Like the closer we sit, the farther apart, we must all pretend to be?
I look forward to seeing you and reveling in your creations in the comments thread! For those of you who haven’t yet shared a poem, it’s never too late to join, and there’s no arbitrary standard of excellence that must be met before your poems are worthy of being read and celebrated.
Thanks for providing this space Lisa - I am just now getting caught up enough to post!
Mine was inspired by a followup visit to my cancer center CARTI. NED now but have dealt with breast cancer since 2012. These are both rough and need some work.
CARTI Castle
Five letters.
Irrevocably linked to six letters - one word -
That no one ever wants to hear.
Modern building, sterile halls.
Hidden doors in walls
Which open to reveal
The latest technoliday to screen, diagnosis, and treat.
Excalibur in the hands of modern day knights used
To prevent, predict, prolong.
The waiting rooms over three floors filled with those
Who wait.
Frightened, lonely, strong,
Determined, defiant, defeated.
All united in a common purpose.
To slay the dragons or at the very least
Confine them to their lair.
-Karri Temple Brackett
01/10/2024
Waiting
Not so nervous today, just a follow up.
Into the room, into the cape,
I know the drill.
I never read the book I bring, I just wait.
My doctor is loud and joyful in spite of her specialty and I hear
Her finishing up with a patient in the next room.
I don't begrudge the other patient going into my appointment time,
Remembering the time she took with me twelve years ago
The hope she provided; a speck of light in the darkest days of diagnosis.
She finally comes in.
This should be quick.
But then there is a moment.
Not even a moment, seconds really.
Where extra time is taken, there is a pregnant pause, a catch of concern
Before the all clear is sounded.
All is well.
But in those seconds, I am catapulted into a hypothetical future in which my world ends again.
-Karri Temple Brackett
01/10/2024
I was hoping to revisit the prompt a bit differently today, but here we are.
My sick bed is our bed,
but his is still the couch.
He cuddles our youngest
as I clutch a large bowl,
unable to handle the
touch and movement
of our overtired toddler.
The snow is no longer
falling, light and fluffy;
now I can hear the pats
and gurgles of rain falling
outside the window as I
sip the ice water that my
husband refilled for me
between comforting our
still-sick son, and his own
trips to the bathroom.
Perhaps the worst is not over,
but neither is the best of it