Mortality
(Queens Hospital Center, New
York, June 2013)
Mortality I’ve always ignored
for
Being Alive is my constant
thrilling
daily companion, so why
bother at all with that old killjoy,
that trifling
one sulking like a boor in his
dark corner?
But Mortality never gives up,
never
stops sending feelers of
connection –
murmurs of the heart on your
daily morning
showers, or walks, or out on
the street jogging
across from where you live,
to keep your faithful
appointment with
taichi and zen, unknown to you,
Mortality
crosses the busy road with you as
a big yellow cab
whizzes by and almost kisses
you a big rending
heart-breaking goodbye.
O Mortality, today, June 10,
2013, finally
you ambush me. You look
so spiffy in your scrubs,
surgical
mask, gloves and all that
crap at ER. Yet you look
suspicious
to me; pretending to be a
necklace,
that stethoscope you wear
is in fact a snake, as you
offer
me a firm welcoming handshake
and a smile
that insinuates itself under
your antiseptic mask,
as you introduce yourself,
giving, dropping, in fact,
that pretentious Greek-sounding,
almost romantic name,
“Myeloma,” on this rainy New
York Monday evening.
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