Wednesday, 21 March 2012

Poem by Todd Swift for World Poetry Day

The Ailment

What got there, got there
Then it stayed.  Like glue
A doctor implied.  Like prayer
Argued another clad like a father
Black as grease.  It stung
And stuck inside.  A thorn

She cried; a hornet having died
The priest complained – unsin
Thy side!  It was presented
In a finding so I had to decide:
Pull out the fervid pin or wasp
Away to little else besides lather

On a shaved boy’s chin.  Its clasp
Was like wax on a ski or an LP’s skin.
It slid about, it grooved, it played
The length and lines of me, a musicness
Unto breath.  A tiny ceaseless death
The dentist opined then wanted cash.

It felt like wine-slosh in my brainpan.
All night I travelled in my bed, a train.
Each carriage disgorged an ailment
But this main thing only grew in size.
It happened finally to emit a claim
On my own name.  It wanted out

But as me.  I feigned indifference
To my external self, retained some
Dignity.  Soon though, unguents came
And took the resourceful fluid for a stroll.
It shook off the air and walked upright, so
Everyone who saw it nodded at my soul.

March 21, 2012

poem by Todd Swift

Post a Comment

Popular Posts

About Eyewear the blog

Eyewear THE BLOG is the most read British poetry blog-zine of all time, getting more than 25,000 page-views a month. It began in 2005 and has now been read by over 2.5 million.

The views expressed by editor Todd Swift are not necessarily shared by contributing poets and reviewers. Any material on this blog infringing copyright will be removed immediately upon request.
To order books from Eyewear PUBLISHING LIMITED, go to: