ways of slowly dying ~ poetry

paperweight

from my e-chapbook 'balancing acts'

the neurosurgeon calls me lion and my sister goat

while we sit on the black couch behind our parents.

i'm playing with his paperweight : seeing different

things inside it every time i look. at first i'm surprised

that a paperweight doesn't weigh as much as a paper

then i realize things aren't what they sound like : like

i'm thirsty means i'm dying and i'm dying means call father.

mother tells the doctor she sees different things every time.

~ ajay