There’s a Monster Out Back

As a sickly newborn,

(They sent my parents home

on day two,

told them to order a coffin.)

I cannot remember, but

I am sure it defines certain behaviors

erupting over five decades later–

the intensity of the incubator,

back in the day, 24/7.

Well, surprisingly, it worked,

and somehow the mucus plugs

buried deep in both lungs, dislodged.

No one was more surprised

than the doctor, who provided

treatment for the next ten years

free of charge, because

resiliency surprised him so.

Welcome to planet earth.

We hope you enjoyed the ride.

My childhood repetitive nightmare

was traversing a narrow boardwalk

with alligators in the waters,

then the deafening sound

of a train approaching,

then inside a chicken coop

under attack by a coyote,

feathers flying everywhere.

At this point,

my parents would wake me,

the fever often over 104 degrees,

and into a cold bath I’d be dropped.

There’s a monster out back,

and it’s pissed I yet breath

and dare to call it out.

11 thoughts on “There’s a Monster Out Back”

  5. So glad you’re here! My firstborn child was almost three months premature. She fit into the palm of my husband’s hand. I was able to sit by her incubator until able to come home. 🤗💖✨

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