Coffee and Donuts

Contemplating life while facing death

Way too early in the morning

Still iced and black outside

Indoors I lie flat on my back

In a bright, cream-colored room

On the foam cushion of a skinny table

That whisks me inside the hole of a large donut.

As dye is injected into a vein in my arm

I sense the bitter metallic taste of which the technician had alerted me.

I then become briefly startled when the donut begins to speak

Its voice a blend of sweetness and sterility, telling me to hold my breath

Which I do.

And my mind starts to wander. And I wonder.

What else can this donut say or do?

Can it tell me the x-ray was wrong?

Can it tell me everything will be OK?

Can it tell me I’ll be able to hold my breath like this in a year? In five years?

Can it tell me how long this “lesion” has been brewing inside my chest?

Can it forgive me for things I've done? For things I didn’t do but should have?

Can it keep my secrets? If so, for how long?

Can it tell my kids how much I love them? Can it make them believe?

Can it let people know some good things about me?

True things, or at least the truth sprinkled with some goodness?

Can it tell my boss what a stale, nasty little man he is and always has been?

Can it make my sister pay me the money I’m owed?

Can it tell me whether God created man or man created God?

Can it give me a sign?

Then the donut tells me to resume breathing

Which I do.

And my mind filters back to the present, the wandering and the wondering taking a break.

I again realize how weary and weak I am, not having slept well in days.

Can it get me a strong cup of coffee?

I have to get to work and need to perk up.

I can’t go in looking both tired and sick

Even if I am.

 

Reviews

[Leo Gems]

This is an amazingly emotional piece. One test and the length of it can make you face your own motality.
The waiting of the results and the wondering of what if. This piece captures the pure essence of the mind experiencing the unknown. Being tired and sick is a scary situation... but this write also shows the strength of what one can endure.. even if it requires help from a good old cup of joe.

This ink inspires me to count my blessings.. and to overlook the little things and be thankful for what is important. For this I thank you. :)

I hope this write is not a reflection of self or one you love.. but if it is.. stay strong.. and my best wishes to you or the one you love.

[Isadora]

These are my thoughts about this piece and provided to help you become a better writer. They are not in any way a personal attack or critique on your own personal life experiences.

The poems concept is pretty on it, but I would find another way to evoke imagery that doesn't lead to a string of questions. They usually let the reader jump ahead for answers, and your poem does not offer any (rightly so). I often look at questions as scaffolding for the actual poem. You should be able to remove them and have the piece stand on it's own--like foreshadowing in short stories, they are not necessary and often make an awkward read.

Also I would specify the setting of the cream colored room--hospital, hospice, chemo ward, home, ect. from the get go.

[Kirsten write forever]

your right - you can't write!





just kidding it's great!!!!!1

[Dork]

I very much appreciate the kind words. I like this poem in concept alot, but it still reads very "rough" to me despite multiple edits. Your encouragement will hopefully inspire me to fine tune it some more. And no, it's not a personal reflection.