I fell asleep before I could type what I worked on. I've actually kept within the parameters of the month so far, so I don't want to start doing "Day Ten, Poem Nine," or even "Day Nine, Poem Ten," or any of what I've done in past years. I'm also happy that only a quarter of my work for the month so far is haiku.
Anyway, here it is.
Poem
Grandfather, let me
hear you say again
how this hospital visit
is fucking stupid
and live forever again
to stand in the driveway
and use your shovel
to break up the ice
lying in the way
to your mailbox,
to your daughter's house.
And even if the cold is bad
for your diabetes,
even if your chest feels like
it's going to seize you
like it did in the Bahamas,
even if you try too hard
and pierce through the tar,
at least, you'll think,
you're still alive enough for that.
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