Poem By Victor Bloom

on ancient legs
I totter to the toilet.

Not only pain,
But hard to pee.

What has become
Of me?

I thought I'd remember,
But I forgot.

Sometimes I remember
What I forgot.

I forgot 'er.

S'what happens
When you get old.

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Other poems of BLOOM


I don't have enough words
To say what is unspeakable,
And yet I think in words,
I think all the time.

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Teetering on uncertain legs
I totter to the toilet.

It’s dark;

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Got burnt at the stake;
She had a vision;
They thought she was a witch,
But she was a saint.


The chrysalis twists and resists the strands of thread
Which make the prison Nature built for it.
In savage agony it tears the silk
That queens did sacrifice their sons to wear;