My Malady Poem by Michelle Hanes

What do you wish of me?
I ask that you hear my plee
I cannot simply do it
Because I have an ounce of wit

I don't push myself because
There is a lucid** clause
If I go over the thin line
I'll have a meeting with the divine

I ask what you desire
With every step I just go higher
Up, up and off of this Earth
My age still a horrible dearth***

If I attempt this preposterous feat
I'm positively dead meat!
I don't wish this on me
Or on anyone I see.

If I do endeavor on this
I'll count down for the bell to dismiss
I'll collapse on the ground
As it's attacks, pound after pound

As I'll gasp in despair,
"Do your worst! " I'll dare,
For there is nothing worse
Than this horrible curse…

*malady: illness
**lucid: to be evident, obvious
***dearth: an insufficient quantity or number