Off The Record Poem by Cheryl Lynn Moyer Peele

Only his brown eyes moved

not the face

or head or body muscles

at all

not even instinctively.

Cognitive activity was so low

it could not be recorded.

Like a puppet I raised

his hands, arms and muscles

in tandem with the flow

of our activities.

No perceivable reasoning

or thoughtfulness

or coherent responses.

In spite of this,

Jason all day long

watched me and laughed

with conscientious glee.