Wednesday, November 9, 2011

3WW: Drank, Hitch, Muster

Hallway to Death

She drank a bottle
of vodka

after the doctor

to give her any more

We found her
on the floor

with a broken

At the hospital
she complained

of snakes invading
her room

and hitching themselves
to her underarms

and wrapping
around her chest.

There was a broken pipe
under her bed

flooding the room.
Every nurse

was eyeing her man
and he was chasing

all of them. Weeks
later the hallucinations

eased. She remembered
nothing. And even

a stint in rehab
wasn't enough for her

to muster the willpower
to live without pills

and alcohol. She
has lost weight.

Her skin looks healthier
now that she's not

all dehydrated. Her back
is feeling better.

She's eighty years old.
But her remaining years

seem like an empty
corridor she has to walk

down alone
if she has to be clean.


jaerose said...

Maybe you always have to walk that corridor alone..whether you are 38..or 80..I love the clipped pace in this urgency that can perhaps only be seen from the outside..powerful write..Jae

Bethe77 said...

The grip of addiction knows no age. It is sad but to be set free from that one must muster all within to walk that corridor.
Wonderful write.

Sheilagh Lee said...

the grip of addiction is all powerful. glad she's getting clean.

Berowne said...

You've predicted a bleak, tho well-written, future. Good post.

Laurie Kolp said...

You have captured the disease of addiction perfectly.

oldegg said...

This is brilliant and does give voice to so many sad and lonely oldies trying to cope on their own or choose unsuitable remedies.

Altonian said...

That was so sad.

miss pie said... a caregiver, i am speechless... "..slip sliding away..." paul simon sed that

Linda's Poems