Today's poem is by Maryann Corbett

Nothing Like the Sun . . .
       

Wear hats. Wear long sleeves. Never let the sun
near you; beware the slightest blush of red.
You had your suntanned vanity. That's done,
and now you're paying: raw chunks of your head
carved out in gobs; your scalp swaddled in white
waddings of gauze; white scars along your cheeks.
(Whoever knew retirement's brief delight
would bleed out in the disinfectant reeks
of clinic waiting rooms? Well, now you know.)

Your bandaged fellows fidget to the sound
of Muzak. Nurses call you and you go
to learn how hard your body's run aground.
(Thank God for this appointment slot; they're rare.)

More surgery? Less time? Your choice. Compare.

Copyright © 2025 Maryann Corbett All rights reserved
from The National Poetry Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission