Woody

Woodrow was nobody
reading negative
blank stare.
He walked, ate, drank, processed, slept
and kept to himself, except
to touch noses, sometimes,
with his sister, slender Wendy,
who kissed him.
He did not wish to be held,
snuggled, cuddled, stroked,
babytalked or squeezed.
Operation Woody:
Neuter, fix hernia, unblock urinary tract,
reroute urinary tract, wait.
Woodrow was sort of somebody
reading low key.
He likes boxes
the insides of boxes
the tops of boxes
boxes with cats on them
boxes bearing only Woody.
Then Woody was less than himself,
a rail, a bean, a pencil. He cried but did not walk much
nor eat, nor drink, nor process.
We didn't sleep.
Operation Woody:
I.V., nose tube, sweet talk:
Please don't die.
Please, please don't die.
Woody was trying
to live.
He stared hopefully
into our pleading eyes:
Don't die, don't die!
He pleaded back:
Save me, save me
and get this nose tube out!
He ate from spoons
then rammakins.
He fought forced pills.
His tummy grew back
and more slowly, his tummy hair
and concurrently
his Woodiness.
Woodrow was really quite a somebody!
Reading: electric, magnetic, curious fascinated stare
rotating ears.
He ate, drank, processed, walked a little, kissed, slept, ate more, grew more, kissed more.
He wished to be snuggled, cuddled, reassured,
stroked and babytalked.
Woodrow gew into Woodrow:
a big boy!
He kissed his sister.
He kissed his uncles.
He kissed his bubby.
He kissed his zaydie.
His auntie growled at him
but she growls at everyone
(except her brother, her bubby and her zaydie,
whom she kisses raw).
He played. He plays.
He likes TV, especially ads.
He likes pill bottles.
He likes Bubby';s asthma inhaler.
He likes Bubby's backscratcher.
He fights with quilts.
Sometimes he wins.
Sometimes the quilt wins.
He likes boxes:
the insides of boxes,
the tops of boxes
boxes with cats on them
boxes bearing only Woody,
who is really, really somebody!

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