Spin Me: a drabble

“Spin me,” she whispered.

Her words caught on the wind before floating away into nothingness, never making it to his questioning gaze.

She could lose herself in those eyes, had lost herself in that gaze.

Not on this day.

With a sad smile and a soft sigh she turned away and slowly began to spin and spin and spin until she was dizzy and giddy with freedom. Her laughter filled the rafters with song while doves beat their wings frantically looking for a way out.

She lifted her arms in devotion and let herself fall into the cacophony of sound.

21 April 2018
Sussex Coast, England

Day 20: Rebel rebel

For the original poem which is way cool but also for the link to the wonderful essay by Alice Notley.

Mexi Movie the Third (closed)

What a great craft resource today! Hail, hail, the disobedient!

I enjoyed reading the essay by poet Alice Notley so much that I almost forgot to write my poem.

First, Challenge 20: “Write a poem that involves rebellion in some way.” Immediately I felt quite at home. Then I read the essay and felt all is right in this world.

Still, my poem waited to be written. All the words in quotation marks are by Alice Notley of whom I never heard before but she certainly made an impression. Thank you for recognising the truth.

Disobey this!

“There were no babies in poetry then. How could that have been? What are we leaving out now?”
—Alice Notley

I don’t think it’s exactly a profession
neither a horrorscope sign
the ikigai
or the answer to the question:
What do you wish to be
when you grow up?
Still, it marginally beats

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Battles with the Male Medical Ego

I’ve run up against the Male Medical Ego, head first. Yes, again. I still live in hope that those creatures will become extinct.

As they insist in treating a sinus infection, which they are adamant is viral and which I am equally adamant isn’t (I should know as I’ve had two sinus surgeries for the damn things), with amoxicillin which hasn’t worked on me since I was 10, I am too sick for chemotherapy. I am too sick for radiotherapy and I will continue to be too sick.

So all cancer treatment has been suspended. In all fairness, I think my existence has escaped their attention at this point.

On a positive note, I have a 74% chance of survival from the surgery alone.

My throat hurts. My face hurts. My head hurts. My glands hurt. I’m pretty pissed off.

Here’s a pretty picture of me in my latest sun hat.

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Another Day

Another day spent at the hospital with intravenous antibiotics.

My body appears to be struggling with the chemo drugs. It also appears to be chronically fighting a viral infection of some kind.

Still, as chemo kills absolutely everything, once the fevers start I get treated for sepsis because anything else is not worth the risk.

I’m home now with The Spaniel curled around my body and the Wonderspouse looking worried and pale.

I feel

exhausted.

Despondent.

18 April 2018
Sussex Coast, England

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