Poison Ivy


Underneath a burning sky,
Wilted muscles,
Broken bones.
Thirsting for water.

Squirming so that I can’t sit still.
Shuddering from itchy skin.
Poison ivy, head to toe.
Laying in a bed of nails.

Calamine might do the trick,
For a few seconds, anyway.
Or perhaps it is the contact
From rubbing it all on.

Bed covered thrice,
Sheet, then corn starch,
Then another sheet,
And more cornstarch.

Get too hot, you sweat,
Then you itch,
Then you scratch,
Then you ooze,

Then you scratch,
Then it spreads,
And you itch some more.
A vicious, endless cycle.

Taking prednisone,
And Benadryl,
And Ativan,
And more calamine.

Catching sleep when I can.
Hoping for mercy,
More sooner than later.
Next time I decide

To pull up weeds
And pull down vines,
I’ll be wearing long sleeves,
Long pants, and gloves.

Will I ever learn?


Author: Gordon S. Bowman III

Writer, Visual Artist, Blogger, Advocate

2 thoughts on “Poison Ivy”

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