The Boxer C- Male Rebellion

I have a bedridden patient who, as it turns out, is a fabulous but relatively unknown poet. I discovered this on one of my weekly visits to her home (to change things, draw serum, write notes about her survival and looming potential for not surviving) when I mentioned that I was happy that Black July was over. In Black July we lost a couple of nurses to life forces and I had to take over their case loads as well as continue my own. It was horrendous, the paycheck was quite large. I told her that I was a poet and needed the time to moonlight again. And what do you know, she said she is a poet and that day I asked to go through her archives (in a bedside drawer)...mostly written before she began to deteriorate and most of the pieces originate in the liberalism of the Beatles generation. She relates that she used to be involved in Performance Poetry. I didn't expect to find what I found. Not at all. A real poet, a good one. Since that little visit, we've been having readings at her bedside. The first week of course was her work (I had to read it as her eyes aren't so good anymore and she interjected points at which she expected the audience to participate in her performances), the second week I read from my own (Odes and Fight Song) and this week I brought a book I knew she would just love by CAConrad, The Book of Frank and she did. Her favorite poet is Maxine here and I did not have any knowledge of Ms. Kingston so here it is.....what a funny lady. Oh life is delightful and perhaps I will be able to find a way to get my friend published again.....she so deserves it and has no ability to participate in a war except with death anymore. Listen to the poem about the Elephant Seals and it so fits the situation. No wonder my lady loves Maxine. No wonder at all.