Curse You, Backache!

I write this to free myself from demons. I beg your indulgence..

 Curse You, Backache! 

Sunday morning finds me,

Naked.

On my hands and knees,

In front of my bed.

I’m fishing with a broomstick,

For a bit of deodorant stick that leaped away from its plastic holder,

Dropped on to my bare toes,

And skittered away like a cockroach,

To a spot under the exact middle of the bed,

Nearest the head-end,

Just out of reach.

Leaving me groaning and in undignified pose,

Embarking on a new week and another month.

Curse You Backache!

You held me in your tireless grip all day Saturday,

You made me end the month,

Watching my store of videos,

Carefully planning every foray to the refrigerator,

Pantry and bathroom,

With military precision,

Lest I be found,

Writhing on the floor like a worm,

Clutching a tupper of hasty tuna salad.

Curse You Backache!

I have you to thank for a wasted day,

When there was so much to do.

I have you to thank for laundry that waits,

A week of meals still to be purchased and cooked,

And the bruises of the hooves of your horsemen,

That still linger as I climb out of my pain,

And go about my life.

Curse You Backache!

Don’t dare to tell me,

I needed the rest,

I needed to clean out my refrigerator,

I needed to think about things undone and priorities.

Those things might be true,

If it had been my choice.

But you took away my options,

And gave me only a sense of my weak mortality.

Go away now and let me be – ME!

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