Harridan (Untitled)

Here I lie all forlorn
Dignity and hair all gone
Stretched out on my pristine bed
Adjustable at foot and head
Thus I may recline my spine
In any favorable incline
But if I need to take a pee
I have to take that darned I.V.
That bleeps at me continually.

Oh Platinol! Oh Platinol!
Irrational my hate may be
My stomach reaches out from me
Whenever I just think of thee
And when they say V.P. sixteen
Erruptions happen in my spleen.

Oh Harridan! Oh Harridan!
Malignant tho’ my case may be
You’ve tempered prudent medicine

With thoughtful words and sympathy
I’ll not expect a cure from you
Nor potion that will set me true
From this my fright tho’ I can see
No end of suffering.

With you I’ll grapple up the path
And falter on with every breath
Not ours to say “This isn’t fair”
Nor yet our future to foretell
But rather we can say at last
We did our best and fought like Hell!

by Lorna Bain — December 29th, 1985