At the Facility: Hagiographic

Though over-obvious beyond belief, 
He bears the name of Christopher who bends 
Above the barely-boy-like weight to lift 
My weakened father from his bedside chair 
In one swift motion, smooth and true, but brief. 
He tugs that vet with practiced, well-trained hands, 
Almost in an embrace that is his gift. 
And as they close, this anti-Janus pair 
Counting to three, the figure that they dance 
Resolves: the junior partner’s haunches lower 
To the bed till Christopher is cradling 
All the heftless burden and its swaddling. 
An aura grows, until in certain slants 
A disc of light glows more and more and more. 

EZ-UP

          (home health aid) 

The gizmo cushions not his fall, but rise,  
And after, sits and also waits to serve,  
As steadfast as a Fido or a Nipper.  
Lifting the weight of what were once his thighs,  
Two pistons push this cushion through its curve.  
The ninety-one-year-old, a double dipper,  
Pitches as forward as his Medicare-  
Subvented seat allows, then stiffens to  
The memory of a sergeant’s crisp “ten-shun!”  
Each time time comes to spring ahead, the chair  
Arthritically performs what it must do  
With an unwilling creak of coiled suspension.  
But “Whoopee!” thinks the cushion, like a clown  
That fails to fail each time it lets him down.  

LEN KRISAK

Len Krisak's latest books are Say What You Will and a complete verse translation of the Aeneid. Winner of the Robert Penn Warren, Richard Wilbur, and Robert Frost Prizes, he is a four-time champion on Jeopardy! and a 3.5 pickleball player.