Tuesday, June 17, 2008

wer hat die Pille für mich?

a whooping and a coughing
sounded from m. barley macarthur's corner
the lung-tearing rib-shaking
cough resounded through the hall

m. barley macarthur's shoulders quivered with
hurt as he swallowed the phlegm
wiping the sweat from his bald&gray
scalp with his sweatshirt sleeve

he knew he put those pills somewhere
but he had checked all his pockets
and under his chair
did he leave them in the bathroom?

and there in the sink it was
the bottle but capless and spilt
lying wet in the basin
one white pill dissolving by the hole

he eyed himself in the mirror
panicked ashen mouth set
in a stiff dry grimace
this would never have happened

if p. karen macarthur were still alive
she would have thought it all out
and this, this now, wouldn't have been

but it was
and m. barley macarthur would just have to
shake and shiver and stutter himself
to some german doctor and explain

all by himself.


Post a Comment

<< Home