22 October 2014

Medication




Routine, sweet mnemonic device, beckons
her to the first pill—a stomach coating—
an hour before vitamins and pain pills.

French roast brews while she washes last night’s meal
from cat bowl and kitchen sink, feeds the cat
and counts the seconds till her first swallow.

With mug cradled in two hands, she watches
dawn trace the skyline, inhales ambrosia
and offers up prayers she promised yesterday.

She drinks morning’s poetry with coffee
and—muscles and brain finally alert—
eats pain pills with cereal and yogurt.

Ready for the fourth tier of maintenance,
she swallows two anti-depressants with
a second glass of water and cup of joe

checks her appointment calendar, waters
begonias, washes her face, lays out clothes
and antibiotics for her day’s grace.

Routine, sweet mnemonic device, beckons
her to pre and post lunch, dinner and night
timed-release capsules of vitality.

And she is in there, too, writing volumes
amid fears and safety zones labelled “Take
one,” “Drink me” and “Call me in the morning.”



Posted for my prompt 

Poets United Midweek Motif ~ One Day in the Life of ...




Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast



16 comments:

Sumana Roy said...

pills & etc are our old age friends, very loyal, won't leave us till our end and helps us to move towards healing zone...in the midst of all this drinking poetry with coffee is purely magical...

humbird said...

'She drinks morning’s poetry with coffee' ~ my favorite line. ~ It's up to us what we focus on - meds or sky ambrosia and poetry. ~ Have peaceful day, Susan. :)xx

Jae Rose said...

We did cross paths...a touch of Alice if I may say too although I think the potions and labels are for better not to create chaos

Anjum Wasim Dar said...

morning begins with 'mugs' and 'meds' -thoroughly enjoyed this 'day routine as I could relate to similarities' ''drink poetry with tea' here and watch the sunlight spread on the trees and terrace.May joy and peace be with you always each day each moment amen.

Mary said...

I do know that there are some people who depend on various pills to get through the day. I suppose for many this is a daily fact of life, a necessity. And we can be thankful for modern medicine.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Oh I resonate, Susan, but thank God in between the routine, we are writing, probably more than ever in our lives before.....yay, us!

Unknown said...

Pills are a bane to our existence and who can remember when we took what as the pill keeper has his mouth sewn shut. Raise a glass to better days and cracks for the pills to fall between.

Old Egg said...

What I hate about meds is that someone is making a buck out of my misery; and knowing that just as much harm as good is being administered. You speak for so many of us.

Arathi Harihar said...

drinking poetry..that's the best medicine for poets..beautiful lines Susan

Nicholas said...

"She drinks morning's poetry with coffee"

I love that line. It gives poetry the credit it deserves: warm and awakening. I love this Susan!

Brian Miller said...

so i wonder what your mneumonic device is...
hopefully not the little doctors script there in the end,
we all find our ways to get through...

i will def take the coffee and poetry...smiles.

Gillena Cox said...

the way you wend your words; ah this is so well crafted, have a nice Thursday. Thank you for the stop over at my blog today

much love...

Gen Giggles said...

I like the return to the mnemonic device. It makes it feel like the story is told by rote for the character.

Scarlet said...

Goodness this a lot of medicines and painkillers to get through Susan ~ But I love that poetry is part of the everyday routine, that I can relate very much ~ Have a good weekend ~

Grace

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

Even I, who have been a bit anti-medication most of my life, have had to succumb to a few. Ageing! But yes, the pleasures of nature, poetry and coffee are what make a life! :)

Anonymous said...

Routine is as much a help (and its own kind of medication--calming influence)--as anything--you describe it very well--thanks, Susan. k.