Showing posts with label Stroke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stroke. Show all posts

Friday, April 26, 2013

Swallowing is the Issue

The doctor tells me, the feeding tube is the size of linguine. There is no irony in his voice. Facts. It's temporary, to get nutrients into the old man. He had two small strokes in bad places. 

Carnivore octogenarian dilemma. The old man hasn't had a meal in five days. A man prideful about his choppers, his cock, and numbers. A temporary feeding tube?

B.F.M.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Stroke

Reborn, a butterfly with paws, gnarled breath and fangs. Letters crumble from your lips, your right blue eye dips, your brain hardens to an anvil were the darkest blacksmith pin points his pounds. Your hands fist, tongue strays, your swallow gone.

B.F.M.

Friday, February 1, 2013

Two Things

It's one thing to chain a man to an anchor, to drop him overboard; it's another to leash him to a buoy, to let him drift.

B.F.M.