Wednesday, January 10, 2018

I (Take My Meds)

presses on this
growing pate
with the predictability
of gravity.

I see his
eyes squinting
in service
of his smile,
and I see him
looking back at me
in the mirror.

I hear him
repeating everything
just like I do,
like I do.

I'm a wee bit taller
than he was
but he was more lithe,
more trim
than his lazy glutton son.

I happily take
my chemicals
that sound like
foreign banana republics:


I have one
advantage of him:

I know how old he was
when he suddenly
had that one
kick-ass strong
heart attack
that claimed him.

I am 54 and
he died at 64.

I can do math.

I take my meds.

[Written for Poets United:]


  1. Amen! I, too, take my meds and feel lucky to have them. Those who come (and go) before us leave us their patterns to study, that we may out live and out achieve them in our own wise ways.

  2. Oh I hear you, kiddo. My dad died at 50 of a heart attack. I keep an eye on mine. Yes, take your meds, for the poetry world needs your poems! I especially love the repeating everything twice, "like I do, like I do." LOL.

  3. I do understand your words and fears. I have a male friend whose thoughts were as yours, in that he feared he would not reach sixty as his father died aged fifty-nine. He is still my friend, very much alive, and passed sixty nigh on a year ago.

    I know of many men who have expressed this fear and done the maths, and wonder if it is a man-thing? (Please know I am not making light of your fears.) I wonder of this as I don’t know any woman who dreads a certain age, in relation to their mother death.

    The kindest of regards
    Anna :o]

  4. This is so poignant. We are hardly as healthy as people of past generations. I think back on the time when my grandmother told me that when she was my age, she had her theory about following a balanced diet which would help her in the years to come. Heck, I guess even I will have to take my meds when my time comes :) Beautifully penned, Mosk!

  5. We all do as much as we can, always keeping death dates of parents in the back of our heads.

  6. I hope so... I can see that too... and I'm a few years senior to you. Last year my father would have been a hundred years old.

  7. Take care of yourself ~

  8. Nice description: "kick-ass strong
    heart attack"

  9. Live a good, balanced life & don't think of that final reality. When it will happen it will happen. Meanwhile be in poetry :)

  10. man. I had my first snake up the bum visit yesterday, the camera on a stick. last conscious memory before was the damned doctor working his way whOOOP then thankfully, nada.

    so far, so good regarding blood tests, etc, other than the damned prostate. oh well. no meds yet, for me, thankfully. glad to hear you're with yours, though ~