Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Hypochondriac

He doesn’t know what ails him;
it will not rest until it has a name.

Or he forgets.

He thinks his knees are aching,
or his calves might be swollen.

He thinks he’s got a fever,
or a cough.

He’s tired of thinking.

It crosses his mind
that it might be his mind.

“But it doesn’t make it
any less real,” he says.

He thinks it might be the new job,
or the boredom;

a pill—any pill—would do.

He thinks he’s lucky,
and he’s sorry,

and he counts his blessings in one breath.
“I have you, and her, and her—

don’t make me cry!”

But it still doesn’t have a name.
Only sometimes it doesn’t need one.

5 comments:

meme said...

hi how are you my name is mona and ive been reading ur blog i rely like it ive been looking for ur email but i can not find it can you plz email me back my email is mj_sweet_angel@hotmail.com tanks after seeing ur blog i rely want to do my own plz take care

arch.memory said...

Hello Mona,
My e-mail is archmemory (at) gmail (dot) com. I'd love to hear from you!
All the best,
Ashraf

thepoetryman said...

Nice movement here. The last line certainly stays with me.

Mirvat said...

brilliant! i'm one

arch.memory said...

Oh no, you too, Mirvat? ;)

And thanks, PM!