Another Crossroad

Written by: John Heck

Another crossroad.
Invalids weep when 
wearing another's
soiled diapers suddenly 
disappear.
In spite of the battered off-chance -
from a despondent interruption;
I'm the exposed exception.

Coarse fingers bleed.
My wheelchair spokes 
are hardly friendly.
I proudly bawl when no one 
can see me bow my head
amongst the company of
irreverent observers.

At rest
with this solemn disease -
the embrassing stench of inhumanity
forces me to open a 
newly glass-stained window.
I whisk swallowed past-killings
onto bent steel hangers.
Neatly there, they elegantly droop -
angled and uninteresting;
in a dank closet where 
falsified myths
and I 
silently hide.

Leukemia, I personally, thank you.
Mid wives laugh at me.
Jesters poke a crooked finger, also.
Kings, queens 
and jacks are left behind.
I chuckle, too - with an
unbridled Lucille Ball lament.
Four spaded-aces and a forgotten spittoon;
the uninviting hospice where we 
comfortably bed together
crocheting darned finales.

Say farewell.
Don't tell anyone.
Blood bleeds beyond 
frowned staled dales and

expiration is a personal moment.
Daddy and Mommy need to witness 
the definition of 
an unwarranted demise.

Open ended the 
Grimm fairy tale concludes,
without a finely tuned 
Aesop moral,
leashing the braille-exhausted
onto another muddied 

crossroad.