My conversation with Dave went on a long time and touched down in many places, including the difference between calling one’s workplace a studio, office, shed, or lab.
The Stranger: Dave
The Word: Lab
The poem I wrote:
I have one chair
and it’s empty
and it’s good.
All day the day accrues.
In morning I haven’t
reconstructed myself.
The walls still not up.
In the lab I have
things to make
all my life long.
Unearthing time
in a secret room.
The Challenge: Do you have a poem in you on this word? Write one here.
October 17, 2018 at 2:46 pm
I visited a lab yesterday.
Sterile, antiseptic, drab,
Scary, for some. Terrifying for others.
Mine was a routine annual exploration of secrets carried by blood.
A quick prick and it was over. Red blood sucked into a tube.
How does that happen? A vacuum? A plunger going in reverse?
I never watch. That would be scary.
At least the anticipation would be.
A poem about la ab. Why go to the sterile and scary?
Instead, I think of Carl and Buttercup and Oogie — labs with welcoming barks, kind eyes, ears like velvet.
Chasing squirrels, flinching during thunderstorms or during human hiccups, sleeping next to the bed, or on it, if no one is looking.
The antiseptic labs have a place in lives, no doubt.
Lab takes me to puppies who grew in dignity to adults, alongside children, doing the same.
October 17, 2018 at 4:25 pm
Crying Fowl
“I need the veterinary. I think I’m out of luck,”
Said the very concerned woman as she pointed at her duck.
“He’s my beloved friend. More like a supporting pet.
A mallard, more a pal, he lifts my spirits when I fret.”
Underneath her arm, she held her beloved fowl.
His head was lolling over. He’d been that way a while.
“The doctor will see you now, “ said the receptionist,
“I hope that he can help you. He’ll know to do what’s best.”
“Hmm…” said the Doctor, “I’m afraid I’ve got to say,
It seems your duck is dying. He’s only got a day.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed the Owner, “There must be something you can do.
Run some diagnostics! I can’t accept this news.
“Well,” said the Vet, “We’ll get 2nd and 3rd opinions
From some experts, here, I’ve got among my minions.
Shortly thereafter, through the laboratory door
The Doctor led, on leash, a Black Labrador.
The black dog sniffed. He gave the duck a lick.
Then, he sat and whined. The duck was very sick.
“There is not much hope but, we’ll try one thing more.”
With that he brought a cat onto the examination floor.
With a single claw, the cat prodded the ailing bird.
A hiss, a spit, and a shaking head were its final word.
“I am so sorry, ma’am. Something has got his goose.
Alas, like you and me, he has one life to lose.
Take him home and give him comfort. It won’t be very long.
In knowing he was loved, he’ll be singing his swan song.
Just one more thing, madam. Here’s your final bill.
Pay the gal on your way out. Do this if you will.”
“What? Five Hundred dollars? Usually, it’s fifty!
How can you justify these charges? I’m a gal who’s thrifty.”
“Yes, ma’am, but, of course, you wanted more exams
And those were provided and performed. We do the best we can.
Our invoice is itemized. You wanted the Lab Test
And then we did a Cat Scan. Both done at your behest…”
October 19, 2018 at 8:21 am
The Heroes
Remember the heroes.
Some suffer still,
lungs filled
with the darkness
that spread as an ink stain.
Rubble piles groaning
under themselves,
straining to lift
back to the sky
as they died.
The smell of jet fuel,
terror,
so many blackened cables
connected to nothing.
The heroes dug,
dug blindly
until the black lab
wagged his way in.
“Fearless”, they all said,
barking at sounds and smells of life
even in the jaws of creaking concrete.
Remember the heroes
who still lighten that memory,
as if the lab has found us
and can be heard barking,
furious in pawing away
at our rubble.