Tag Archives: dad

Rhinoderma

By my interests and work in so many other directions–in literature, journalism, education, philanthropy, and religion–which had been testified to by so many notable people on this occasion, I hoped to prove that I was not a mere faddist, who could be led away by a chimerical fantasy. I wanted the world to understand that I was a clear-brained, commonsense woman of the world, whose views were as worthy of credence as her work in other directions had been worthy of acceptance. Today brought so much joy to me that there was little wonder I was able to conclude my birthday poem “Rhinoderma” with the lines:

I’m a tadpole inside of a pouch.
My body is getting tired so I lie on the couch.
My brother trips on a white rock and says “ouch”
But I pay no attn because he’s a grouch.

It suddenly comes to me- where I’m at
In my father’s mouth is where we sat.
He protected me in my habitat
From the camel, the duck, + the bat.

It’s been 3 wks + I feel like a frog.
My dad spits me out + I land on a log.
Hooray I’m no longer a poliwog.
Oh No! I’ve been eaten by a groundhog.

I see myself in little pieces
But it’s alright cuz I count the breezes.
Through it all my blood, it freezes.
Trouble and pain turn into eases.

Aching Back Blues

Ridden with pain,
Discomfort seeps in.
The new is very old.
The strong is now weak.

I have the aching back blues.
I just want it to go away.
I can’t get rid of it.
I just want it to stop.
I have the aching back blues.

Lately I’ve been moaning inside my head. I have a back injury. Everyone I know seems to have back problems. A third of everyone at work has back issues and we are all secretaries who do no lifting and we get breaks. My dad has metal in his back and he complains in the cold. In the meantime, I’ll do some yoga and strengthen my trunk. And eat less junk food.

There was a guy I knew who had this scarring done to him. His name was Greig, or at least that’s what I knew him as. He was some bum who’d pass by my work in the morning.