Stroke: A Poem

2 Nov

Stroke

I imagine his bedroom
where he woke this morning
to find half his singing nerves
numb and silent

his tongue halved and pulling
the cold words cramping in his throat
half a world gone in each eye.

I dream
his darkened bedroom
where last night
his mind meshed
in its last unaltered thinking

where now
these work shoes
will unwalk
neatly
against the wall.

John Stone

Version 2

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