Extubated (Poem)

Posted by: Jane Campbell 1 year, 10 months ago

Hi all. Busy working on edits for The Last War in Albion, Volume 1, which we're planning to get out in August. Also, the next installment of Lost Exegesis (Solitary) is taking quite a bit of research, but this is par for the course, as we'll be venturing into the Quran, several philosophers, and a long-defunct TV show. In the meantime, here's the poem I read last Christmas for the Eruditorum Christmas Spectacular Podcast, but never got posted. So here it is. It's about a man coming out of a ten-day medically induced coma after contracting spinal and cerebral meningitis, complicated by pneumonia, sepsis, and a mild heart attack. It's a poem about my dad.

The cough is a gong, laden with wet

Uncanny strong for one so feeble

Rattles his chest like windswept shutters

on an ivy-choked wall, a decrepit

cottage late in autumn

The hands askew in twisted palsy

Dervish fingers fly and shudder

His trembling arm rises high

Palm spread wide

to catch the sun

The face a mask for Hallow’s Eve

Furrowed brow, sallow pallor

Wax paper skin loosely wrapped

about his jaw, a frame of balsa

cowled with grizzled snow

Sockets dark, lids red and swollen

Eyes set deep, the one half-open

Not quite rapt, cowers from fluorescent

light, like mine, a daughter lost

upon a moonless grateful night

The mouth is a graveyard

Lips once puckered now surround

his jaundiced tombstones found

by a mangled tongue

cracked like desert flats

Dad’s voice: "Oh god, oh shit, oh man

Okay, okay, I got to— wow

Fuh—fuh— oh Jesus fuck

Oh my god, oh god, oh no

not again"

The seizure comes like lightning

Its iron fist grips every muscle, stiff

He stares in disbelief

Are these my legs? Are these my teeth?

Doesn’t see the flowers

Everything chimes

Heart monitor, blood pressure,

the bed, the phone, his central line;

no more the stoic ventilator.

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Comments

bombasticus 1 year, 10 months ago

Love the "central line" line and the general return to presence after a long time gone, like coming back to a seasonal house abandoned on the fly. Hope he is well.

I was just talking about how I missed my central line but I don't miss the tube. They had the wisdom last time to have me conscious when they took it out -- I don't plan to repeat that experience any time soon!

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joeswinn 1 year, 10 months ago

Love the poem very much. Its really amazing. Keep up the good work.

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Custom Term Paper Writing Service 1 year, 8 months ago

Hello
the poem was quite different. Thanks.

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Custom Term Paper Writing Service 1 year, 8 months ago

The poem is good. I easily understand this. Thanks

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gandhi jayanti wishes 2016 1 year, 8 months ago

Cool one get to reAD OUT

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Terrarium tv 1 year, 7 months ago

Thank you for thsi very informative post.

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happy valentines day 2017 1 year, 4 months ago

Nice poem...looked all over for this. Thanks for sharing

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music maniac 10 months, 1 week ago

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Posted by: Jane Campbell 1 year, 10 months ago

The cough is a gong, laden with wet

Uncanny strong for one so feeble

Rattles his chest like windswept shutters

on an ivy-choked wall, a decrepit

cottage late in autumn

The hands askew in twisted palsy

Dervish fingers fly and shudder

His trembling arm rises high

Palm spread wide

to catch the sun

The face a mask for Hallow’s Eve

Furrowed brow, sallow pallor

Wax paper skin loosely wrapped

about his jaw, a frame of balsa

cowled with grizzled snow

Sockets dark, lids red and swollen

Eyes set deep, the one half-open

Not quite rapt, cowers from fluorescent

light, like mine, a daughter lost

upon a moonless grateful night

The mouth is a graveyard

Lips once puckered now surround

his jaundiced tombstones found

by a mangled tongue

cracked like desert flats

Dad’s voice: "Oh god, oh shit, oh man

Okay, okay, I got to— wow

Fuh—fuh— oh Jesus fuck

Oh my god, oh god, oh no

not again"

The seizure comes like lightning

Its iron fist grips every muscle, stiff

He stares in disbelief

Are these my legs? Are these my teeth?

Doesn’t see the flowers

Everything chimes

Heart monitor, blood pressure,

the bed, the phone, his central line;

no more the stoic ventilator.

Comments

bombasticus 1 year, 10 months ago

joeswinn 1 year, 10 months ago

Custom Term Paper Writing Service 1 year, 8 months ago

Custom Term Paper Writing Service 1 year, 8 months ago

gandhi jayanti wishes 2016 1 year, 8 months ago

Terrarium tv 1 year, 7 months ago

happy valentines day 2017 1 year, 4 months ago

music maniac 10 months, 1 week ago

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