Posted August 28, 2018 by Lee Dunn5 Comments Love

A bad day

I’m a blue man he says to me,
speaking to the ceiling.
I pull my chair closer to his bed,
cupping his cold hand.
His swollen face lolls in my direction,
eyes like a slot machine.
I’m locked in the freezer. Get the keys!
I hang my head, squeezing his hand harder.
Why don’t you answer?
God damn (I think). God damn. Please.
Here. Are you cold? Let me get another blanket.
(I hear a noise from the hall. A cart clatters by. A door slams.)
Bang, bang, bang. Three distinct bangs.
Are you warmer now?
(The slots have stopped on Two Spades)
Ah haaaa. Ah haaaa.
Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Let him go soon.
When it’s my time, let it be a heart attack.

Lee Dunn View All

Lee Dunn has been writing since the age of 18, but found that work got in the way for the ensuing 48 years. In his home town of Toronto, Ontario, Canada, he reveled in his independence at an early age, and spent as much time as he could exploring the city’s Arts scene. He was introduced to poetry and prose by the works of two literary giants, namely J.R.R. Tolkien and J.W. Lennon and thence fell in love with the written word. His work includes poetry, short fiction, and personal essays, and ranges in theme from the surreal to the horrific, nostalgic, and themes on the human condition. He has been published on Spillwords.com, The Dark Poets Club, Journal of Undiscovered Poets, Crepe & Penn Literary magazine, and the Shelburne Free Press.

5 thoughts on “A bad day” ›

(((Lee))) I, too, hope for a quick ending. The vigil is so very, very hard.

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Lee Dunn says:

August 29, 2018 at 9:41 pm

That was my father, 1974. I was 23. The words haven’t gone away.

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- gizzylaw says:
  
  August 29, 2018 at 9:55 pm
  
  You lost him so early. I was 32, headed to law school, when I lost my mother. A six week vigil. The words have never left for me, either. Do you realize what an amazing writer you are? I hope so. You hit home with almost every post.
  
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