Not Well Poem by M.C. Bruce
Not Well
my girl was irked
that she had suffered for weeks
from some unknown miscreant
virus which made
her cough and clogged
her upper pipes, while i
sailed blithely through
my days unscathed.
it's not fair, she said,
that i am punished for my sins
but you, equally a sinner
are skating on grace.
but today my throat is sore
and my head is clogged
and she tends to me with tenderness
and just a little smugness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/19/2024 8:18:22 PM # 1.0.0.1119
