Poetry from Nicole Miyashiro

Image via Unsplash

Yes/No to Neurosurgery for My Son

Hell is not a hideous thing.
It washes its face and puts on
deodorant.
It peers over at the clock,
which ticks on as usual, and it slides
a fresh shirt over its shampooed
head. Hell
pours flakes and raisins
into a cereal bowl
without spilling, pours
2% milk without a stray drip, takes
spoon to mouth with nothing
to slurp.
Hell is on time –
punctual and patient –
not willy-nilly, fireball chaos.
Hell looks
at that same morning sun I do
from its warm and cozy
space within and says, “Look
at that beautiful sky. Look
at those clouds,
round and knitted close
like the spongy curves
of your little boy’s
brain.”
Hell
is matter-of-fact,
measured,
generous
in its distribution
among the day’s
quiet times.
.

.
Nicole Miyashiro’s latest work appears in The Doctor T. J. Eckleburg Review, Clever Girl Magazine, HEArt Online, and Persephone’s Daughters. She is also working on an ekphrastic project called ‘Words of Art.’ http://www.nicolemiyashiro.com

2 Comments

  1. Alice says:

    This is as beautiful as it is heart tugging. It says so much yet leaves so much unsaid.
    We all have our own personal hell. And happiness. All at one time going back and forth from one to the other. I feel we can choose to be in what ever one we want. If we can improve or attempt to improve our hell or happiness then the decision is all that’s left.
    I love you. And your writings.

  2. Dan says:

    So good. Struck a nerve . Love the poem , thanks for sharing!

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