What They Told Me I Had to Do. There Was No Question

Eyes like empty saucers, distant

nebulae, enveloping darkness,

legs an emaciated string bean theory,

an abstract mathematical exorcism of mind and body;

x-rays the answer; this brain’s

a screed of scum on still impotable water.

And if my head hummed its hopeless

why then was that not surely to be expected?

So let him go, I thought.

Which was, I think, an undoubted understated blessing.

But what they said his shunt stopped working;

The parents are insistent.

Not if, but when,

can you get it working?