In bed with the cat,
bathing himself
while I sip warm
water to dissolve the pill,
send it scurrying into my cells
before the nausea sets in.
So that I will have the energy
to do my day,
so my hair won’t fall out,
so my skin won’t bristle so.
I’m grateful for the quickness
back in my step,
that I can last past four p.m.,
though some days I still can’t,
and watch Oprah as a last recourse,
something I would have never
done before.
Maybe all this is my punishment
for the judgement
I felt for daytime t.v.,
I always thought
it was a waste of life.
I still do,
but some days it is
as close to life
as I can get.


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