My Left Foot

My Left Foot

Doesn’t work anymore
One day I got out of bed
And it hurt like hell.
It still hurts.
Even with no weight on it
And when I stand up
I almost begin to limp
But not so you can tell.
Things fall apart.
Bodily decrepitude is wisdom.
I’m not ready for this.
But I can almost remember
When “Chookie McCall”
Was not quite an absurd name
For a heroine in a detective novel.
So it’s probably polio
Like we used to have
And soon I’ll be in an Iron Lung
Yes, soon it will be 1958 again
And all my dead will visit me.
Me in my iron lung.
And eat candy and smoke.
While I look at them
Upside down in the mirror
As they get up and walk away.