Stomach Bug
By Adina
You brought me ginger ale
To soothe my aching stomach
Though the real culprit
Beat quickly
And haphazardly
In my chest
Needing you to spoon-feed it
Or delude it
With your medicine
While I knew nothing was foolproof
I wanted to lie in your arms
As I sipped the bottle’s contents
To have the liquid slide down my throat
And warm my stomach
And my soul
The ambrosia that would bring me
Back to you
Back to us
I looked to the ceiling
A stand-in for the heavens
And I prayed
For a panacea
That the ginger ale
Bubbles would work their magic
And hypnotize the butterflies
So they would dance to the beat I had
Spuriously created
And which I clung to
Like a final breath
Expected
Of stubborn old age
But in the end
I remember that ginger ale bottle
Rolling to the floor; empty
Of its purpose
Of its hope
Though I drank it all
To the very last drop