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Down
Using my right hand, I point,
“I can draw it.”
I draw “Eloise,” but really,
it’s the opposite angle.
As happy as I am showing
my word backwards,
my point doesn’t work.
Missing again.
First I Wrote About Aphasia
Now I’m adding coronavirus
since this is fuckin’ scary.
So, I say then, get in gear, bend and stretch.
Take a deep breath.
Coronavirus is what it knows
just about itself,
a red eye snatching and attaching,
weaving and cranking with whispers.
I think I might even die now, too,
but just for the heck of it
it’s easy for me to think about me.
“Say no words,” the virus says.
The silent weave, the virus spends
grabbing right next to anybody.
Yet I mean no death to me.
I mean surviving
and that’s what I want
All I can be.
Gone
I lost my language so quickly
no real words could even assist me.
I couldn’t speak my meanings,
my mouth without my mind
and it was just yesterday when I was 72.
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