Frank
By Tyler J. Yoder
I haven’t slept; the dawn is here,
And I’m swept back to yesteryear.
A long-dead Uncle views the coast,
Embraces me; he is my host –
And in that faded Kodak room
We smoke, and sit, and toast our doom:
We share a certain malady –
The symptom of our family.
And though our blood stays smooth and sweet,
It rises to a certain heat –
and then I break another chair
to take to wine in my despair
and he’s run out into the rain
to scream aloud what’s in his brain
and on the scarred and wooden ground
I’m seeking a forgotten noun
he’s clawing at the skin beneath
the opera inside his teeth
I haven’t slept; the dawn is here,
And I’m swept back to yesteryear.
©2014 by Tyler J. Yoder. All rights reserved
Tagged:
Bipolar Disorder,
Family Illness,
Manic Depressive,
Poetry