Bedford Open Poetry Competition 2009 – 1st Prize

CHARLES EVANS

Diagnosis

That morning my wife levelled with me

We thought it better not to tell you

It explains those headaches you’ve been having

It’s Parabolic Dyanide Spondosis

There’s no known cure

I sat up in bed, rearranged the pillow

And turned to her

I thought as much, I said, let’s face this thing together

It’s cold outside, she said

I think I’ll wear my beige

She opened the wardrobe door

You’ll find it difficult, she said

But at least we know those nightmares when you

Clambered on the roof and sang

Were just a symptom

And when you had that awful wind at Pamela’s

We were puzzled at the time

But now we know it’s normal in the later stages

The pelezoid attacks the gronge, she says

Would you pass that hanger

She put the suitcase on the floor

The treatment isn’t easy, she said

Twice daily injections in the lower contribule

I don’t know how you’ll reach

Without my help

Apparently libido is a telltale sign

I thought so, I said, I should have known

It’s why I fucked that statue in the cemetery

They called today, she said

And asked for compensation

She turned at the door

I’m spending the week with cousin Joan in Cardiff

If there’s anything you want

Phone after six, try not to make a fuss

She’s been unwell

There’s morphine in the fridge

And don’t forget the undertaker’s booked

For ten tomorrow, tell him the hymns you’ve chosen

Look at that rain

I’ll catch my death

She closed the door

I turned in the bed and switched on

The Hallelujah Chorus, poured a double gin

Opened a box of truffles

And ran a bath

Then I rubbed myself all over with body oil

Changed into yellow silk pyjamas

And phoned the doctor

Pam, I said, she bought it

We’ve got seven days

This poem arose from a particular set of circumstances:  I was in bed recovering from flu; my wife was preparing for a long-standing engagement to visit a friend;  I was seething with resentment.  ‘Diagnosis’ arrived fast and went straight down into the notebook as an act of revenge.  I read it to my wife when she returned.  She never liked it.