Wednesday, October 12, 2011


my foot is still dragging, almost a month after I fell on my head,
in the middle of the night.
my thumb is dead numb.
fortunately, the MRI is clean, just a pinched nerve. I'm relieved.

my mouth is under construction,
two implants sit waiting for the final crowns.
the little caps are being made right now at a lab, somewhere.

but my gut aches, and that's not an actual physical malady,
at least not truly in my gut.
I have OCD; a big secret I hide from almost everyone.
this is my coming-out poem,
a debutante ball for my soul. a cotillion.

in my poetry brain,
OCD is an animal. (a cat?)
much of its time is spent in the now; feline stalking prey,
once caught, the prey is tormented still alive, sometimes released.

I have been pawed by the cat since I was a child,
and crippled in varying degrees, over time.
it's strange that I limp now because of something unrelated.

if someone were to ask me about my OCD, I'd say, go read about it,
that's why we have the Internet.