Dahling, it’s Vonderful, my son is going to be a Doctor

 

Dahling, it’s Vonderful, my son is going to be a Doctor

(A poetic essay on the etiology of mental illness)

 

When I was six my Father died of Asthma

And when I was seven my Doctor Uncle showed me x rays of lung cancer

And when I was eight I saw Tuberculosis germs flying in the room

 

And the TB is in the holy Jewish tabernacle, sniggering like a white fish on a

rye bread

Like a toothless, evil relative pinching my cheeks as if she wants to draw

blood

Like the leeches lurking in the back of my Grandfather’s drug store

Almost as sharp as the scalding chicken soup made by my Nanny

The Matzoh Ball Tumors bigger than my Mother’s boobs.

 

Because my Mother was anxious, anxious, anxious

About goyim and infections, goyim and infections

And so we kneel before huge penicillin shots

And get fucked up the ass.

 

And the Freudian child psychiatrist tells me that my penicillin shots are

penises

And I know I am a sodomite at the age of nine

 

And now they tell me that my genes made me schizophrenic

 

 

Copyright, David Gottfried, 2008

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