Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Uncle Joe

“I think I have TB,” moans
Uncle Joe, “ I don’t think
the doctors here have
diagnosed me properly.”
I nod sympathetically.
He looks so shriveled,
and skinny that
one of these days,
I feel he’d just
turn into a wall paper.
I feel sorry for him,
because he was a doctor himself
and yet suspects his own clan.
Perhaps he has his reasons.
“I think the nurses
are trying to poison me,”
Now he’s suspecting them too.
“Uncle, they are doing
their best.” I say, “I mean, they’re trying
to heal you.” He misses my gaffe.
Doctors perhaps, make
the worst patients.
“My teeth are becoming
powdery,” he whispers.
If I’m an 86 yr old like him,
I’d be very glad if I
just had my teeth. Powdery or not.
“I am in this trouble all because
of your aunt,” he claims, “She
had no business to leave me like this.”
Bless her poor soul. Even dead,
she is blamed by him for all his ailings.
So like the unfortunate women of her generation.
“Take me to some other hospital,”
he pleads, and I nod, though
I won’t. Sooner or
later, he’d realize he
can’t trust me too.

5 Comments:

Blogger shuchika said...

poignant.

reminds me to meet someone who's 73.

its been a while

1:51 AM  
Blogger Gilbert Koh said...

Hey, I liked this. The uncle character feels so ... uncomfortably real. And the last sentence is a really good way to end the poem.

8:06 AM  
Blogger ~River~ said...

Very good.

Liked the cunningness of the ending.

8:21 AM  
Blogger black rose said...

I like your humour Mr. Fraud.

5:37 AM  
Blogger Alice said...

Very good. I enjoyed this very much...even though it left me with the uncomfortable feeling that I'm too much like your uncle.

Great site.

3:22 AM  

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