Strong Medicine

For the past two weeks I've been enjoying The Collected Poems of Stanley Kunitz.  Kunitz, who died a few years ago, was a former U.S. poet laureate (before the title was created), and his poetry spanned the gamut from domestic to natural to personal.  He also possessed a lightness and accessibility to his verse that is not found in other poets.

Reading Kunitz also inspires me to continue writing my own verse . . . particularly as I have a pile of poems I want to give to my wife by Thursday night (our 27th wedding anniversary).  I'm working hard on those new poems and hope to have a couple I can post on this blog on Thursday and Friday. Stay tuned.

But for now, here's one I wrote some years back about the medicine cabinet.  Enjoy this sneak peek behind closed doors.

Medicine Cabinet

The remedies are racked by age:
A jar of adolescent Vicks,
My mother's castor oil, a page
From Dr. Spock, tweezers for ticks,

A vial of flaming lineament,
Tubes of Brylcreem, old prescriptions,
Pills assorted, drops of mint,
And aspirins of all descriptions.

In front of these, like sentinels,
The new drugs offer potencies
In milligrams.  Typed on the vials
Their side effects, discrepancies,

And dangers.  A history of myself
Stacked in sickness and in health.