Cachexia
Published in Poem Of The Day
Today I woke up in my body
and wasn't that body anymore.
It's more like my dog-
for the most part obedient,
warming to me
when I slip it goldfish or toast,
but it sheds.
Can't get past a simple sit,
stay, turn over. House-trained, but not entirely.
This doesn't mean it's time to say goodbye.
I've realized the estrangement
is temporary, and for my own good:
My body's work to break the world
into bricks and sticks
has turned inward.
As all the doors in the world
grow heavy
a big white bed is being put up in my heart.
About This Poem
-Ariella Riva Ritvo
About Max Ritvo
Max Ritvo is the author of "Four Reincarnations" (Milkweed Editions, 2016). He was a teaching fellow at Columbia University and lived in Manhattan, N.Y. He died on Aug. 23, 2016.
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The Academy of American Poets is a nonprofit, mission-driven organization, whose aim is to make poetry available to a wider audience. Email The Academy at poem-a-day[at]poets.org.
(c) 2017 Max Ritvo. Originally published in Poem-a-Day, www.poets.org. Distributed by King Features Syndicate
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