Through a dense fog, I hear someone
explaining to me repeatedly
how the stockpile of microenzymes
I have built up over the past ten years
will be depleted in five days
while the staff ply me
with Perrier and Imodium
j.lewis is a Nurse Practitioner who works in a jail, oversees a lot of detox, but has yet to prescribe any Perrier.
I named my otoliths
Theseus and Minotaur
for those days when the world
around me gyrates out of control
as hunter and half-bull
run wildly through the maze
in my inner ear.
j.lewis has enough in life to keep him dizzy without vertigo, but it comes and goes anyway.
He said so little,
she had to infer his love,
the way one infers an unmarked road at midnight
by the bits of wrecked chrome
shining along the shoulders.
j.lewis hates driving at night, but has no problem writing about it.
All I Want
Wife in the grave for sixteen years,
son in the pen for life,
and now all I want
is to outlive my dog
because no one else will love her
like I do.
j.lewis is an internationally published poet, musician, and nurse practitioner whose poetry and music reflect the complexity of human interactions, with a side of humor.