Non-Durable

[for a country doctor]

Here’s another beige plastic do-hickey 
busted. We’ll buy a new one, 
throw the old away.

But you would have tinkered it back 
till it worked. Thin physician hands 
adept at hammer, shovel, trowel, 
you could fix anything, or turn it
into something else of use.

These days, we can’t find a fuse.
Everything’s expendable.

After 87 years, you knew it was time 
to recycle yourself, to turn in 
your hands, your wrinkled gray eyes, 
your gentle smile.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2007

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace