Jan 26, 2010 22:25
Medical Advice - Joe Sheerin
Kisses shorten life; mixing strange spittle
Or sucking in microbes, dozing under small flaps
Of gum or carelessly grazing on the plankton
Of teeth upsets the ecology of the mouth.
One could, of course, wear a surgical mask
And agree not to exhale while gauze touched
Gauze, or write letters from a distance
Disinfecting the pen and using self
Sealing envelopes for safety.
Some, I know, blinded by passion shed their
Clothes like children, pressing nakedness
To nakedness, making contact at all points
Throwing caution to the wind or worse.
A few die early from inhaled infection that
Turns plump hearts into prunes before their
Time, that withers the skin and blanks the
Brightness of the eye. They are love’s martyrs.
Others with strong constitutions survive. Nursing
Injuries like war wounds, they limp through
Marriage, frequently resting on the shoulders
Of their love, while the cautious live to a ripe old
Age, camouflaging internal bleeding as late periods.
star trek,
poetry