Aphasic (Day 2,773)

Numb’s the word.
Just past summer 

solstice, no rain, muck
blows off 

as a dusty burst
of thoughts you may have—but 

they will remain trapped
in a cephalic void. The conversation 

is over.
I’m not ready. 

My jaw aches
from clenching 

teeth against the cruelty
of your disease. Look out, 

I can’t predict when
or where I’ll bite.

4 thoughts on “Aphasic (Day 2,773)

  1. Your voice of pain speaks for so many whose words can never be as sharp and eloquent. A beautiful, hard, sad poem. Thank you for writing.


  2. You paint such reality into your abstractions. I listen in wonder as you describe this journey…. I can only feel the slightest breeze of the windstorm that’s swirling around your youth, pulling you into another acute stage of reality, and then wisdom, and then spiritual expansion. I love you and I love the words you harvest into print. We don’t need to talk to feel connected.


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