Mad Earl poem: Doctor’s Help

 

(A break from fiction. Here’s a poem.)

Doctor’s Help

You only meant to help

You extend your hand

My advise; withdraw it, my friend

Some have lost fingers this way.

You only meant to preach.

 

You tonic is

A weak arsenic

You hand it to your friends

To keep them your subjects…

 

You only meant to treat

Doctor, as you are

Your advise; stay ill, in need

Of your cabinet—

Yes, you only meant to bleed.

 

Your treatment is

Breakage of limbs

Severed feet and leeching

Patients, for your keeping.

 

Tell me your intentions are good;

I would rather rot than commend myself to you.

 

Your aid is pain

Spewed diagnosis based

On your ignorance

And your empty well-meaning head.

(A/N: the fifth poem in the Mad Earl poetry collection. )

© 2011 Luz Briar. All Rights Reserved.