Here are some poems from When Language Left Me:
BEEP
for Emily
Silence.
My silence (coma).
But in the room
relentless noise:
BEEP… BEEP…
BEEP… BEEP…
BEEP… BEEP…
Coming to.
A solitary nurse hovers.
Behind her, a familiar face.
I know her.
My sister?
Don’t know her name.
Sink
into sleep
again.
She fights—
my sister—
for me.
Drop everything,
travel to me.
Sleepless nights. BEEP…
Worry. BEEP…
Prayer. BEEP…
Her chin is firm.
Her eyes are fire.
What does it take to move the world?
_______
NO
for Rachel Owen
Rach traveled to my parents’ home,
Chandler, Arizona,
one month after my stroke,
on my birthday, I am 32.
It’s autumn and hot.
She redeployed home.
She was afraid that
her dear friend, me,
had changed,
no longer the same.
She was worried.
I open the door to greet,
my dearest friend.
Embrace.
Lock eyes.
Nearly speechless.
I have just a few words:
“Camel.” “Hi.” “No.”
Maybe “Yes.”
Rach doesn’t worry
ever.
But today she is worried.
It’s getting dark.
I want to go to the park.
I am determined to go to the park.
But how do I say it?
I can't say
park
I can't say
Frisbee
“No,” is my park.
“No,” is my Frisbee.
“No,” is my go:
I march to the park.
Rach smiles.
Still here.
My friend,
still here.
Rach understands my no.
_______
Blank
for Nick V.K.
My hands flutter as I pick
them from the air:
images and words floating.
I grab for them
and try to puzzle fit.
One sentence.
I can’t compose one sentence.
Not one sentence.
Not “not one beautiful sentence.”
Just no sentence
at all.
Words are chipped
f r a g m—
I try to put them together
but the words go sideways.
But where the words were, there are blank blank
heart blank blank ache blank blank
blank crying out blank blank frustrate
blank mmm blank blank blank blank
grief blank blank blank grief blank
blank blank blank blank blank longing…
Something disappeared. Missing.
It’s like the books
are
blank the library.
The birds blank
the trees.
_______
For Granted
Order drive-through
for granted
Cards & letters
for granted
Conversations
for granted
Post-style earrings
for granted
My bra
for granted
Tying shoes
for granted
Button on
or off
for granted
Driving
for granted
Pick up the phone—
for the appointment
for the bank
for the VA
for the kid’s school
for the library…
Just chatting
for granted
Emergency call
my address
my phone
describe a situation
for granted
Make up the story
for granted
Singing
for granted
Reading
Reading poems
Reading children’s books
Reading recipes (Recipes!)
All
for granted.
_______
Rearranging the Tofu
On and on, every week,
building comical mini stories.
Like: “I went off on a tantrum…”
I mean “...on a tangent…”
See?
Unintentionally
lightening up the room.
Happens all the time:
Me: I will go to the walrus!
Husband: Walgreens?
Me: Yes! Wal - greens!
Me: Oh! You rearranged the tofu!
Neighbor: Oh! You mean futon?
Me: Ugh! Yes. I like it!
Me: The color is irrigation.
Speech therapist: Irrigation?
Me: I mean ir - i - de - scent?
Descent into the abyss??
Me: Please, give me persimmon to play!
Friend: Permission?
Me: Yes. Exactly. Per - mi - ssion!
Me: I need to chance my password!
Husband: Change?
Me: Ha ha. I need to change me.
Me: What animal?
Young child: Prairie dog?
Me: Close! GoFundMe!
Young child: Huh?
Me: (Breathe.) Go - pher!
Me: Care for a potsticker?
Nephew: You said potsticker?
Me: No. I meant pop - si - cle!
Nephew: OH! Yes, please!
Me: Help! Distinguish the fire in the oven!
Husband: OK! Extinguish?
Me: YES!
Me: Honey! Apple cider!
Husband: Cool! Apple cider?
Me: Oh. No. Apple… App - e - ti - zer!
Me: You are pressure!!
Daughter: Mmm?
Husband (whisper): Precious.
Me: You are precious!
Me: My muse is obstacle!
Poetry therapist: Mmm… Obstinate?
Me: Yes. My muse is ob - sti - net. Sometimes ob - sta - cle too!
Me: You like your comfy scissors?
Niece: My comfy slippers?
Me: Yesss. Your comfy slippers!
Me: We have a tomato warning!
Friend: Oh dear! Tomatoes?? You mean, tornado warning?
Me: Possible!! ;)
Me: I like the coffee shop, Cutthroat!
Brother: What?
Me: I mean, Cutbow Coffee!
Brother: Ohh! Ha ha!
Me: There! I threw the rubber duckies, the crocodile,
the turtle, the elephant, the starfish, and the apricot
into the bathtub!
Daughter: Apricot, Mama??
Me: Hmm... Oc - to - pus!
Daughter: You got it, Mama! Bravo!
_______
In this last sample poem from my book, I reference Flamenco (golpe! golpe! golpe!), an outlet I have found for my whole body to express my emotion in a way that aphasia has not been able to limit!
Duende
Once I knew the muse.
Downpour of ideas,
flood of dreams,
ocean of words…
I could not find—or conceive of—
a bucket big enough
to contain them all!
I LIVED duende.
-------8/28/15-------
The day the spigot shut off.
Dryness
Barrenness
Incomprehensibleness
For a long time, empty bucket.
Where are you, muse?
I twist the handle.
Just drops.
My muse
used to seek me out—tackle me!
Now I
search for duende.
I still take my pen
into my now-numb fingers
trying to coax my words out
but the pen doesn’t move
fast enough to express
the torrent of my emotion.
Nor yet my feet (golpe! golpe! golpe!).
But I practice. I work hard.
And I have hope
for both.
_______
if there is someone you think–or know!–would appreciate reading When Language Left Me, discounted copies (only $10.95) can be purchased directly from the printer:
