Poem by Max Kerwien

December 15, 2023

I have trouble making something out of suffering.

It is so hard to wash off sunflower oil.
Here comes the hospital. Twenty-five minutes.
My desk is always covered in crumbs.
I have a bracelet that reminds
me of my Crohn’s. Click here
to unsubscribe. Neutral numbers
climbing on the screen. Soon, the salty taste
of saline. Fifteen minutes. Where do
I sign. This place is crap. Look,
no more snow on the mountains.
A bike tire hissing for air. Can anyone
explain this bodily dread. Doubled over in
the backseat of the car. Eight minutes.
Did the Sounders win. In pain it seems
light can only move through dust mites.
One long incision down the middle.
Five minutes. Take this pamphlet, you’ll need it.
Inescapable riptide. Remember for later.
Well, no more corn for me.

About Max Kerwien

Max Kerwien is a disabled poet and comedian. In 2016, he won the Joan Grayston Poetry Prize. His work has appeared in decomp, DASH Literary Journal, and elsewhere.

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