Medical poems/ page 2 of 3 /
There’s only one natural death, and even that’s Bedcide For the post-mortem amusement of Richard Brautigan
A B H O R E N C E S
November 10, 1984
Karshish, the picker-up of learning's crumbs,
The not-incurious in God's handiwork
I remember being scared to death when, at about thirty years of age, I saw an x-ray of my skull. Seeing one's self as a skeleton, or receiving any kind of medical report, even when the news is good, can be unsettling. Suddenly, you're just another body, a clock waiting to stop. Here's a telling poem by Rick Campbell, who lives and teaches in Florida.
Medical History by Carrie Shipers: American Life in Poetry #152 Ted Kooser, U.S. Poet Laureate 2004-
A child with a sense of the dramatic, well, many of us have been that child. Here's Carrie Shipers of Missouri reminiscing about how she once wished for a dramatic rescue by screaming ambulance, only to find she was really longing for the comfort of her mother's hands.
I HOLD a letter in my hand,-
A flattering letter, more's the pity,-