President’s Cancer
My President has cancer
The kind
That killed my brother
Whose detection seemingly
Went late
And though he lasted through
The treatment and his life
Awhile
He was taken by the cancer away
From us
And what he knew
For sure of him
And so I feel strongly for this thing
My parents
And too many others I
Have known
While
This is about you
Mister President
Like
My brother
And I am sorry
And I wish you well through medical
Responses
Thank you for your service
By which we know
How to pray for you
In
Days
C L Couch
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
on my oldest brother’s birthday
what shall I say
happy birthday to my brother
many
more birthdays
and painless shoulder
for a gift
and thank goodness
you’re the healthy one
of us
and selfishly
I count on that
as you
and then a model
for the rest
and so last seventy
by the way
we count
and it’s a good year
please
with all the good that is
and also due
c l couch
my brother Steve, 2 January
photo by Stavrialena Gontzou on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Three Months
x
I miss my brother
I have no one to talk about
Old movies with
I learned from him
But mainly it was the treat
In discussing
The subject
The people mostly black and white
The fictive stories they presented
The real stories
That they were
x
Older brothers seem to come with
Mysteries
Blank spots in life that stay
That way
Stories within stories
Ways of thinking
That I’ll never know
But we had the sure thing
Of old movies
For discussion
x
And now I miss that
As part of missing him
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Denise Jans on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Invitation to a Wake
(with a toast)
x
We invite ourselves to
A meeting of ourselves
To celebrate a life
No longer with us
With all the possibilities
Frustrated to resolve
This side of things
And we can’t drink ourselves
Into oblivion
Because oblivion has form
And so frustrates annihilation
Of our senses
Besides, we want
To remember
And with gratitude
Share memories,
Enumerate mortality
Until the count and everything
That counts
Is ready on both sides
x
To one or those no longer
But an absence,
Here are drinks
(one of these
per one of us)
To aid sensation that
We hope will aid selection
Of desired sun-and-shade
Remembrances
Of memory
To tell
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Jen Theodore on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
(x = space)
x
x
Pointers
x
What shall we say
That life goes on?
It does
Life goes on
As we say a lot
Without the import
x
Better over there
That is the promise
There are hints over here
Should we see them
Should we not
Or choose not
They are there, anyway
x
Funny thing
About the faith
Almost in anything—
Nothing is presumed
By our believing
If it’s big
And good
If it’s small
And good
It is there, anyway
x
Our choice does not affect
Its existence
Or its offering
Nature still spirals everywhere
And persists
In mysteries of hexagons
x
Nature does not predicate
Or faith in that
From that
Or anything
Or ask for
Our predication,
Either
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Kevin Bergen on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
The Mystery of Richard Bruce
x
I think it’s Saturday
The twenty-eighth
I’m
I don’t
Really have to know
The sun is bright
Through filmy
(rented)
Windows
And on the dusty
Hardwood floor
(I can take
care of that)
And, well, he’s gone
Meeting God so closely
In ways we only
Imagine
And how much we do imagine
Is in the books
How much we want
To know
He was suffering
That’s over
I’m glad for that
Though catharsis should not be
The main reward
They know what to do
The professionals
My sister says
They’re really good people
Plus they know their jobs
The government
Has funded a good deal
Of everything that’s happened
Our tax dollars working
Is there one administration
Or another
To approve?
The family,
We talk with each other
And our friends
There won’t be a service
He made that clear
He approved a wake
An experience of drinking
And appreciation
Since we tend to be
Micks and Scots
And even if we weren’t
This gathering appeals
My sister
And her crew
(my brother-in-law and
nephew)
Had done so much already
The burden for
Being there
I guess I can relate
There was a lease
Apartment filled with furniture
A car
All the bureaucracy
That places our lives
In containment
Then the boxes must be emptied
When it’s time
There should be more
There must be more
There is
There is an end to pain
And remembrance
That’s on us
I’m trying to recall
His sense of humor
It will return
His last days might have
Been sullen
Save for staff
And asserting to my sister
He did not want
To be there
Though there was too much
To do
To allow for decent care
Anywhere else
Too much immobility
Too much medication
There are degrees
I understand
I made such decisions years ago
And do not like it
When there should be more
x
We’re down
To four now
In the immediacy
Of things
The math is weird
The hole
It feels substantial
Holes should have no feelings
Gaps are an absence,
After all
My feelings are dry and sad
Like edging on a desert
Upon waking
Or simply turning around
I want to feel grown-up
And I do
It is the wake that follows
A wave anticipated
Always a surprise
She’ll have the family in
One more burden
Though I think everyone
Will try to behave
(not a pub, you
know,
though even there)
We’ll ponder mysteries
Though I doubt
We’ll talk about them
Memories might be easier
We’ll look for something positive
Or funny
Or strange
He took off once
And I have no idea
What transpired
I was a child
I guess I wasn’t allowed
To know
x
C L Couch
x
x
My older brother Rick died on Thursday night. He died as if he were asleep, and I suppose he was. His last insistances were not to have a service and to have his ashes scattered (not held onto). A wake was approved.
x
Photo by Kamil Feczko on Unsplash
x
(x = space)
x
x
Familiarize
x
It’s my brother’s birthday
I have brothers
I have a sister
So do you
We’re in this together
What did Franklin say,
We hang together
Or we or each hang
Separately
x
That may sound crass
I may
A side-swipe at togetherness
I wish there were more
x
I wish there were more
Friendliness
Maybe in the Midwest
Or the South
You know
x
You know
The easy kind of
Hi, how-are-you kind
x
And for a moment
We mean it
Then move on
As if we all were brothers
And a sister
x
Our people
One by one
A crowd
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Ravi Sharma on Unsplash
Street of Delhi, India.
Chandni Chowk, New Delhi, Delhi, India
x
(x = space)
x
x
Late Cancer
(diagnosed, lived out)
x
My brother
Might have to be moved
Again
He is frustrated
Wants to be home
Before he wanted to be
Elsewhere
But elsewhere isn’t working out
I understand
The purpose of a medical setting
Is not to settle in
But to leave
When well
Stay is contraindicated
Home
As it cannot be managed
Still remains the prize
x
He’s in pain
Palliation only goes so far
Before the pain
Folds in again
He’s also frightened
I would be
I am in contemplation
Though these are his days
And shall the cancer
Diagnosed too late
A year ago
Take him to another home
Prepared
At last
To last
x
But there’s today’s pain
I don’t know how to wish
The pain to go away
Without invoking
The scary, heavenly alternative
But prayers aren’t magic
We aren’t dealing with a genie
Waiting to misstep
Our hopes
In misspoken entreaties
Heal my brother
Still
Is every prayer’s day
That might make nothing happen
‘Til the pain-releasing thing
Must happen
Tragically for us remaining
For him who suffers
Most of all
x
It is late December
I agree it is a magic season
How much amazing
Might be borrowed
From days
Of extra stars and circles
Green and all the other colors
Only for him
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Kalle Kortelainen on Unsplash
[photographer’s narrative]
A crisp afternoon around 3pm in Dalsjöfors, Sweden these incredible snowflakes appeared on the hood of our car. You can almost hear the crisp snow creaking under the soles of the winter boots by just looking at them. Pure natural magic.
x
(x = space)
x
x
Cancerous
x
We’ve been five
Soon we will be four
That is the prognosis
Palliation
Hospice
These are discussed
And sought
For him
x
Out of order
Since he’s not the oldest
In mere math of life
It could have been me
I’m the one with the machine
To keep me going
But I guess
(today’s not over)
It’s not me
(for now)
x
The math doesn’t matter
Not important
Math matters elsewhere
In the dosage
Of his medication
In the number of his place
In the hospital
His apartment number
To which they say
He will not be returning
x
It’s not me
It’s him
He is important now
But I have to say
It’s been a problem all along,
Frankly, with me
I don’t know how to lose
A brother
x
And has he ever learned
To live with this
I’d say so
A mystery he did resolve
Through work
Through home
Maybe through old movies
He knows so well
x
And one day
All shall be all
God bless everyone
Who tries
Who’s trying now
One by one
Who practices with grace,
Each fitness for heaven
That shall be judged
By perfect love intending
Hoping that
Full health to be restored
x
God bless everyone
God bless each one
God bless Rick
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash
x
clcouch123 
Recent Comments