Sciatic Nerve Poem

CenturyTel internet has been a problem this weekend.  Sorry to be late, but here I am with a painful topic.  Surely something good can come from this experience:  maybe a poem.   I'll happily take your help.


When Images Count

                   1.
The doctor asks about the pain level.
Well, sorta feels like a knife-stab in the hip,
then it runs down my leg like lightning strikes.

She says, Sounds like sciatic nerve.
Not life threatening but plenty painful.

                  2.
Early to bed. Face becomes a burning bush.
I want to give my nerve a room of its own—
big enough to satisfy its greedy hunger.
Meanwhile, I think of fire running through
the hallway, threatening to engulf
room after room. I imagine flames
heading for the kitchen. Bit by bit,
I turn myself over.

                  3.
Sleep, hard to come by.
I lie still as if playing possum.
An hour later, the clock chimes.
Need a new picture in my head,
faraway from knives, lightning, wildfires.
I work to image a boat drifting
and rocking, rocking me like a mother
lulls a whimpering baby.

                   4.
I awaken at three a.m. A butcher knife,
intent on dissecting my hip. I freeze,
verifying my fears. But something new
takes place.  Maybe it’s surrender.
I dive and go deeper
into the lulling.
Then and there,
my body curls, turns into a small boat.
I say a little thank-you prayer.

Just so you know, I am not in pain at this time.  This happened in early December. I guess I'll know it if that nerve moves a tad.  Then, I'll want it French fried!

Wow, I really like this! My dad is a PT, and both my hubs and I have had sciatic pain. So I feel for you! Very relatable! Love the images.

Pat

If the title is a directive, I lobby a version where the narrative is eliminated.  Show the narrative in images.

You are numbering sections.  Is that something new?  Is it a form?  It feels redundant since transition words begin each stanza.

Hope some of that helps.  sorry I'm slow on the replies this month. 

Todd

I've seen several poems that break time / place with numbers.
Maybe I don't need numbers if I have the transitions.
I don't think I'd call it a form.
Just a way to help the reader follow the writing.

I'll play with the images to see if they can hold it without narrative.

Thanks

I really enjoyed the first version, but reading the second one, I felt really "in" the poem. Wow. So good. I enjoyed it mucho grande.

Pat

Such power in images.

I think this is much stronger version.  Not sold on the title.

Thanks for sharing

Todd

Actually, the poem is still changing.   
I agree on title.  It's really about PAIN, but Sciatic Nerve is the cause of the pain.  
No end to editing.  
Pat

I'm excited to see a future version! I think you have an important topic here! Lots of people suffer with physical pain needlessly. Perhaps because they don't know there's hope? I'm rambling, but I love this poem!

I usually see things more clearly after a cool-down time.
Maybe I'll be able to get back to it on Tuesday.  
Again, thanks for your encouragement.

Fighting Pain

First, a bolt of lightning in my hip,
then it races down the leg.

Early to bed.
My face becomes a burning bush.
Soon, I am a fire fighter,
hosing down greedy flames
blazing through corridors. 
Water gushes 
to protect organs, to shield ankles. 
I slowly turn over.

Sleep circles overhead
like a cloud of dragonflies.
I watch myself get into a fishing boat
on the cool face of a river.
The boat rocks gently like a mother
might soothe a whimpering baby.

Another bolt, another jolt. I freeze,
verifying fears. Moments later,
I drift past the wooden boat,
feeling nothing.

Pat

I like where this is gong.  I lobby for more trimming:

First, a bolt of lightning races 
in my hip then down the leg.

Todd

I hear you.    Thanks.
I like where it's going too.