Friday, September 19, 2008

The Kitchen Chair

I sit in silence on a kitchen chair,
end of the day, dinner is over,
dishes are done, room empty.
Leaning on my hand, elbow
on table, I stare off into
a thought...

If I died right now, it wouldn't be so
bad, might even be wonderful.
Wouldn't have to do another
thing, could close my eyes and
never have to open them

I am tired, out of breath...heart pounding
blood through my veins like a run-away
train, straight to the top of my head.

Not that I am suicidal...
just tired, so very

and if I died right now, no more dishes
to do, no more wash, or shopping
or bills to finagle...

I want to slip into a forever-sleep.

My children grown, need me no more, I have
instilled good virtues within and hope that
my voice, my teachings, will carry on...

my head, my eyes, they hurt and how easily
I become winded from just a flight of stairs.
My sight goes black, for a second or two,
when getting up too quickly...I must sit...

if I died right now, I would not have to pick-up
that paper under my kitchen chair...

my back is out, my teeth don't line up, I am
so fed up and tired of all this tiredness.
I force a trip to the chiropractor...

Epstein-Barr is what he found.

Fourteen years and many, many dishes
and tubs of wash later,
I still recall that thought while
sitting on a kitchen chair
in a tired silence.

© Vivian