Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Emphysema Memories

Daddy’s coughing up that sputum again,
Hunched hacking into a red handkerchief,
His thin shoulders shaking like leaves
In the opening scenes of a thunderstorm.
When he raises his red eyes I see pain
And the kind of weariness that kills,
And the kind of very something else
I’ve tried to forget the look of for years.



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