Sharon Edele
Hidden Affliction A hug is an iron maiden, A clap on the shoulder is a mortar shell, A handshake is bamboo shoots up my fingers. Thank you for your kind gestures, The trick is not to flinch. There’s no doctor’s note for “It’s a bad day.” There’s no cast to sign; They can’t see what’s happening. There’s no physical sign Of my exhaustion from simply living, Of keeping my head up. No scars from this. Everything is so much effort: Standing is a struggle, Breathing is bench pressing the car That’s crushing my ribs, Walking is shattering my bones, My hands won’t stop shaking. “But you don’t look sick” But it’s not that kind of sick.
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