Gypsy Rose, Childhood by Proxy
They are almost like nurses
as they consider the ailments
of their child.
Sleep apnea becomes
muscular dystrophy becomes
feeding tube,
and eye surgeries,
and lost hair,
and crumbling teeth,
and still they both smile
at how lucky they are
to have each other.
Until one day,
“That bitch is dead.”
and it’s a miracle as if Christ had spoken.
The girl stands
from her wheelchair
and walks.
They are almost like nurses
helping their child
remain sick.
They are almost like nurses
as they consider the ailments
of their child.
Sleep apnea becomes
muscular dystrophy becomes
feeding tube,
and eye surgeries,
and lost hair,
and crumbling teeth,
and still they both smile
at how lucky they are
to have each other.
Until one day,
“That bitch is dead.”
and it’s a miracle as if Christ had spoken.
The girl stands
from her wheelchair
and walks.
They are almost like nurses
helping their child
remain sick.
The secret of poetry is cruelty.--Jon Anderson