Pibroch
This morning, the bailiff, Mr. Kovdrop,
evicted the two gnomes from my lungs.
Landlord Bodie placed an ad on Kiji
then rented the free space in the left lung
to a tiny piper who took up residence by my heart.
This piper piped a pibroch, sad to play,
on his worn and wheezy bagpipes.
A pack of miniature wolves infiltrated
the midnight forest flourishing in my other lung.
When the pibroch played, they pointed their noses
at that spot in my throat where the full moon
would have been, if she could have broken in.
They mingled their howls with the bagpipes caterwaul
and I lay awake all night with my heart beating
arrhythmic suspicions on its blood red drum.
The drum played, the pibroch wailed, the wolves howled
and my body lay scarred by an absence of moon and stars.
rogermoorepoet 
Hi Roger. I love this, especially the thought that other creatures take up residence in us (even though we wish they would not!) … I like the end with stars and went back immediately to the first of the poem to see if there were stars there. I think the weather will get better now and you will be better able to fight off the winter bugs, wolves, etc.
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Thanks, Jane. My “new” bottle of Vick has worked wonders. I went out and bought one as soon as you mentioned the word. It most certainly brought back memories of a comforting childhood smell. It also brought back memories of my first teddy bear. His namesake now shares my pillow and he cuddles me at night and keeps me warm. I guess my second childhood is beginning. I’ll get a boiled egg for breakfast and march little toast soldiers through it … way to go!
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You sound like you are feeling a bit better!
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There’s no sounds anymore, Jane. The gnomes and the bagpiper, and the wolves have all decamped. I am feeling very much alone and de-musicalized!
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Glad to hear they have gone! Made a great poem!
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Oh, Roger! Feel better quickly…
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Get better soon … and abandon the aural aurora borealis that whistles through my lungs each night and sounds like a ghastly, ghostly Goldberg with Gould on all my organ stops? This is life as I have known it for a week now: deliciously delightful and I am beginning to recognize the tunes.
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Sending hugs your way, Roger.
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Is everything OK Roger?
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Just the flu and bunged up to the gills with liquid snot!. I’ll survive. I love the poems that are coming out of it though. It’s a new green world. I’ll survive.
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Stay strong
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Will do. Thanks for being there. Much appreciated.
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