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Iron Lung

Sometimes.  Sometimes, when I am alone,
 I slowly, warily try and bring myself back.
 Cry out the rotting lump in my throat,
 pull at greying hair, a constant reminder,
 life is passing and you are no longer there.
 Unable to breathe. A little girl lost,
 flying kites into thunderclouds.


Glancing faces of mornings in all their glory
 delivers me to rest – and now I’m blessed
 with a life I guess at in your absence.
 Heart stolen hard – drum tight face
 that’s melting the hell of no tomorrows.


New riches to rags physician stirs and grinds
 toxic past into sand, a pacified thoracic cavity.
 Fission and fusion of soporific delusion
 feeding a longing for foetal peace. I am safe
 and saved. Yet iron lung love is stillborn.
 His unexpected, resisted gift of healing
 is only sealed by white ribbon of time.


© Katypoetess 2015

Katypoetesslove poetry

◄ Sweet Light

Dodging Cupid's Arrow ►


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Andy N

Thu 9th Jul 2015 16:51

white ribbon of time made me shiver.

excellent stuff x

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Nigel Astell

Mon 6th Jul 2015 14:07

I read it as you toss and turn
inside a dream of a lost iron love
hoping this new peace will help you forget
we always say time will do it - - - why?

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Harry O'Neill

Sun 5th Jul 2015 22:17

those first two stanzas read like an (unlike that
picture) touching acceptance of age.

However, that last stanza tells us that the old opposition to
that Negative Pressure Ventilation is still there.

This one `got`to me a bit.

Enjoyed it.

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