May 24: "Awake," Sleeplessness, "Doctor Appointment"

Billy Collins suffers from insomnia . . . 

Awake

by: Billy Collins

Dead quiet night--

I lie in bed

waiting for

the other pin to drop.

I am no stranger to sleeplessness.  In fact, most nights, I don't even try to put my head to pillow until well past midnight.  Often, I see one or two in the morning.

It's Friday night.  Raining.  The beginning of a long holiday weekend.  The lilacs in my home town (and in my backyard) are waking up, stretching, yawning purple yawns.  

I had a doctor's appointment today.  Just a six-month checkup.  No earth-shattering diagnosis.  Unlike most people, going to dentists or doctors has never bothered me.  I'm not afraid of shots.  Don't care if I need to be prodded or probed.

That being said, I did work in the healthcare setting for over 20 years, and I've seen some horrible shit.  And when you work in the medical field, you tend to be a little bit of a hypochondriac.  In the past, I've diagnosed myself with testicular cancer, angina, diabetic retinopathy, and complex post traumatic stress.  I've been proven wrong over and over.

The good news is that I will live another six months, at least until my next checkup, unless I have a close encounter with bus or mountain lion.

The bad news is Saint Marty is still a poet.  No cure for that.

Doctor Appointment

by: Martin Achatz

I sit in the exam room,

half-naked, journal

in my lap, pen in hand,

wait for the doctor

to come in, listen

to my lungs, heart,

palpate my stomach,

read these lines I've written,

diagnose what's wrong

with this poem.