Has Much Changed?

I've wondered if my uselessness, to most, my most
Familiar trait, is greater now that I'm in pain.
Do I do less than I once did? Do I sit longer,
Take more naps, or is it simply that I moan
And grimace as I make my way through life
At my longstanding pace? The dishes form
Familiar piles. The floor remains a bas-relief,
An abstract made of chunks of fallen food
And squiggled, grated cheese. The laundry's
Done, but still not folded. Dinner, only hours
Away, at this point, is a mystery. My leg
Is on an ottoman. My hand is reaching for my
Drink which anchors unread magazines.
My eyelids droop. I'm clearly idle, but have
I become more useless than I used to be?



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 32 times
Written on 2018-02-19 at 21:31

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text