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ARTICLES / CareVerses/ The Love Affair of Two Writers

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The Love Affair of Two Writers
Writhed by MS
By Anita Stienstra

His rises moan
where once there
rose gentle verbiage
like Morning, Lover!
I flinch in his displeasure
to face another day where
all his nouns rely on how
his verbs are responding.
Where even having
every day off
is work, and sleeping in
means stiffness and spasms.
He turns, tumbles into me,
and I am glad for the touch.
There are no words
that help his struggle
or ease my sadness or tell
him how helpless I feel, or
how much I know
he aches with helplessness too.
We both have blocks
these days. He speaks adjectives
and choice words
when his hands will not work.
I wrestle with juxtaposed semantics,
swimming in thoughts that make no sense
as I study his disease too much
or his joints and expressions too long.
Our bodies refuse to move
as they did once, his legs
on the carpet,
my hand upon the page.
We are preoccupied most times
with this decomposition
between us: the never ending scripts,
scribbled appointment times,
labels with expiration dates,
equipment and devices,
needles, exhaustion,
universal one word questions.
And yet an arm snuggles around my body
and I dream of writing a piece of this
pleasure to save for more difficult times
and to always treasure.
I cannot leave the hurt out
of this poem, as it does not leave
our lives. We try
though to remember that our love,
though it seems much less, is
much greater and now deeper. It grows
in his blue eyes when I turn to tell him,
Good Morning, Lover!




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