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  • Writer's pictureandrew jeter

A Return

(from the NaPoWriMo prompt: write a poem about something that returns.) [Just like last year, I got behind at the end. No matter, it is apparently just as hard to keep up when one is "remote" teaching as it is when one is with students in school. I will, just like last year, complete the task, but I probably won't post them to social media. It is May, time to move on.]

The last time I woke up

was like all the other times before.

I had to pee.

And then I brushed my teeth, because

I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall

asleep again and everything still worked—

my hands moved as I wished

and my legs too. My ankles

pivoted under the varicose veins

and the rust-brown cellulitis scar

and the arthritis

reminded me to take my pills that

reminded me of the doctors visit that

reminded me of 

the swelling and limping,

that led to the morning ritual of my bones

telling me, “You are alive.”

Yes, it was like all the others, a return

to up and walking and talking and being.

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