Medicine Ball

George Kalogeris

That brute dull thud of its lumpy

leather pelt.

An exercise in oblivion’s blunt

obtuseness.

No wonder you turned around so I

could see

How you rolled your eyes, still sharp

enough to know

That this was dementia, and it was

time to pass

The medicine ball around in a mind-

less circle,

Wheelchair by wheelchair. Around it

comes again

In a waking dream—like the wrecking

ball of a dream.

You rolled your eyes. And now the

one who taught me

How to cradle a book in my hands,

and read,

Holds out her hands to an object filled

with sand.

George Kalogeris

George Kalogeris is associate professor of English at Suffolk University in Boston. His interests focus on Greek and Roman literature in translation. His most recent book is Dialogos: Paired Poems in Translation.


That brute dull thud of its lumpy leather pelt. An exercise in oblivion’s blunt obtuseness. No wonder you turned around so I could see How you rolled your eyes, still sharp enough to know That this was dementia, and it was time to pass The medicine ball around in a mind- less circle, Wheelchair by …

This article is available to subscribers only.
Subscribe now or log in to read this article.