Monday, January 12, 2009

Playing Doctor

Small hands poke and prod –
Squeezing my leg
Feeling my cheek
My mouth is pried open
To make way for a popsicle stick
Just when I think
I am healed
I discover I am not
Diagnose yourself!
Tell us what is wrong!
Pretend medicine can
Fix pretend scrapes
But not self-inflicted injuries:
My desire to be perfect
- striving after air –
And the frustration that follows
If only band-aids and unopened
Ice packs could heal that
But I must settle
For being bounced on
By giggling children

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