that’s entertainment
funny how when
sick
things for entertainment
don’t work
become annoying really
except
I wouldn’t want the crying quiet
either
c l couch
photo by Robert | Visual Diary | Berlin on Unsplash
but it hurts
ouch
I breathe in discomfort
ouch
my muscles ache
but first
and more
all the apparatus deep inside
it is
sickness
it is infection
there might be solutions coming
clc
(sorry, it’s what I’m dealing with right now; I write as I can and read very little, sorry again)
photo by National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases on Unsplash
God Out
What shall we
Draw God into
Not that
It is too unsavory
Distasteful
Don’t you know
Not that
It would be unseemly
To have divinity
Involved
Even to know
Well
Not that
Either
It’s too ugly
And profane
And we think sex
Is involved
And not that
For it was murder
Yes
Between adults
But still
The wrong thing for a
God to see
And to be known
For participation
In such things
But
Yes
Well
God knows all
Sees all
Hears through everything
All walls
Even anything
We pull up for a barrier
And yes
God’s dealt
With murderers
As well as
Thieves
And liars
And
By the way
God knows everything
About sex
Even the aberrations
So
God
Could be involved here or
There
Which means
We’ll need new excuses
For God’s
Exclusion from
Our ugly troubles
C L Couch
Photo by Raghavendra V. Konkathi on Unsplash
(x = space)
x
x
Kieran Levi
(petition)
x
He has been wonderfully named
Kieran for his Irish father
Levi for his Jewish mother
But he has gotten sick
With a respiratory disease we are told
Is severe and contagious
Over the weekend, his temperature dropped
From 102 to 99,
Which is something
My brother, his grandfather
Sent us a message with a photograph of
An infant surrounded by machines
If you have a moment and don’t mind,
Please pray for Kieran Levi
Birth might be traumatic
And three months is just a start
x
C L Couch
x
x
Photo by Yoksel 🌿 Zok on Unsplash
x
Pity the Party
Wow, pain is such a disconnect
Like depression
That I also take a pill for
What is there to care for?
What do I care about?
Who cares for me?
I have accoutrements
A blanket ‘round my shoulders
While I’m cold
Toast (the start of a loaf)
Some grapes (the last of them)
I gave up coffee and caffeine
As if it were my own form of Lent
Though I can’t recall
A decision for
The sake of my soul
Pills have side effects
These press down, too
I am surrounded
The best thing that I have
Are movies
But I’d rather be the artisan
Than the spectator
So sit up to write
A little more
I’d rather make
Than borrow off
Another’s making
I mean, there’s allusion
Citation when it’s proper
Or otherwise might render
A source beyond reach
If not belief
Or to leave it all, hoping for
Belief in the beholder
Well, some system
Is protesting
The strain of illness
Or the medication
Most of this I doubt I’ll leave
Though there might be something
I can’t see or hear
That someone else
Much better at beholding will
Do I pray?
I do and hope for more
But I haven’t a perspective
The thermostat is broken
Someone else must regulate
What happens next,
Which is what I think
The praying’s for
C L Couch
Image by ImageParty from Pixabay
Origami Transportation
How close am I to
Earth when
Help would push me
To the sky
And pain still wishes to
Pull me to the ground?
I guess I speak of
Medicine and illness
And the rips, the tears they make
Ideally with coordination
(patch over wound)
But with parts of the heart
Still pouring over into
Nets of capillaries
Wounded-open
What can artificiality construct
(what can making make)
To that will mend with
Flesh parts that have
Been hung for years
Red, brown, freckled, white
Flesh like bird-feathers, birds
Waiting on a branch to fly
Once the banding’s done?
Fly so well, then?
Metal and claw, we have to hope
Human mends
Steel and plastic
Cotton, nylon fiber
Chemicals repurposed from
Repose inside the Earth
Give it all a chance
The gently shackled bird
The patient with medicines
In binding
C L Couch
Photo by Nikoline Arns on Unsplash
Sliced
I shouldn’t write when sick
I shouldn’t do much of anything
I shouldn’t commit myself to what
Might need defending
From ignorance, later on
But
When I write some truer part of me leaks out
Anyway
And that seems good
Maybe healthy—I don’t know
Because I am not whole
Because I breathe in parts
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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