He Blew Me a Kiss
She liked Frank, they connected
despite his expressionless face. Behind the wound-up limbs and tremor
a gentle man shone out from the mask.
When she visited they would share a cuppa.
Chat about this and that. Do the ‘medication shuffle’;
a two-step dance they both knew well.
She’d heard about stem cell research.
How they’d taken swabs from patients’ skin. Growing stem cells
from skin cells in dishes, right there in the lab up the road.
These stem cells would then become brain cells.
Models of Parkinson’s just like Frank’s. For testing newer and better
medications and perhaps one day even a cure.
The last time she saw Frank it was snowing
but he insisted on accompanying her out. Standing by the gate like a sentinel
he’d wave her off that one last time.
Later she’d think of stem cells like kisses
blown on the winter air. A hand lifted slowly towards a frozen face.
The moment captured in her rear-view mirror.
I won the EuroStemCell creative non-fiction poetry competition which I’m really chuffed about.
Here’s the link to their site, come along to the event on 23rd October In Edinburgh if you can, tickets going on sale soon I think.