Digging
(listen to the poem, read by the author)
I kneel on the hard
ground in a drizzle,
clouds hang like gray
scarves on the mountains,
and I frantically claw dirt away
from the shallow
grave until I see
myself, my blue
face, a little dirt clinging
to my eyelashes, smeared
across my cheeks, my long
brown hair tangled.
Tenderly I brush
the dirt from my own eyes,
and place my lips
to my own lips
try to give myself CPR
pound my own chest
breathe warm breath
into my cold lungs
over and over and over—
but I’m too late—
her face
her face
her closed eyes
with fine eyelashes
her eyes closed like the deafening
long silence
after a prayer ends—
I grasp her limp hand—
I want to be her again—
I want to be whole again—but I can’t
go back.
She has been dead
for almost two years.
I kiss her goodbye.
I wake again
to my own life:
everything shimmering
with tears.
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why
(listen to the poem, read by the author)
did you have
to take it
I wasn’t ready.
where did you take
my ability
to walk
to hike
to ski?
where are you
hiding it?
is it somewhere
in the dark?
is it night time?
are there stars?
I hope so.
I hope there are stars.
and that they burn
fierce and white.
then I wouldn’t feel
so bad.
take care
of me until
I see me again,
wherever you are.
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the stroke
(listen to the poem, read by the author)
wears me
like a cloak
itchy wool
and hot
heavy
heavy
heavy
it weighs
me down drags
my legs
trips me
I teeter
like a sloppy
puppet
it is stifling
like a wedding
dress with scratchy
lace and a train that catches
on the grass
it’s like a lead weight on
my foot dragging me
gagging
into an ocean
of egg yolks
choking me
cloaking me
with slime
it’s like the smell
of sodden diapers
rancid black
banana peels
it’s like a too-tight
bra that squeezes
and sweats
my breasts
like a corset
with stiff boning
making it impossible
to breathe
it’s like wearing
a leather
collar that I can’t
rip off
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About the Author
Shanan Ballam is the Poet Laureate for Logan City, Utah. She is the author of the poetry chapbooks, The Red Riding Hood Papers and first poems after the stroke, and two full-length poetry collections, Pretty Marrow and Inside the Animal: The Collected Red Riding Hood Poems. Shanan is a Senior Lecturer at Utah State University where she teaches poetry writing and composition. Her work has recently appeared in Crab Creek Review, North American Review, Quarter(ly), Sugar House Review, I-70 Review, Wordgathering: A Journal of Disability Poetry and Literature, and Kaleidoscope. She survived a massive stroke in January 2022 that paralyzed the entire right side of her body. It also robbed her of her language. Through a lot of difficult work, she has regained the ability to speak. She also has regained the use of her right hand and arm, but she is still struggling to walk. Shanan never quit writing poetry, though; first poems after the stroke is about her experience.