The Sicknote

In America I sing
The Sicknote and think
of my little brother.

 

I think of him bunking off
school, whinging of a sore pinky.
I think about how the school nurse
knew his gelled cowlick was coming
before he walked through her door.
I think of his binary heartbeats,
his childhood asthmatic gasps,
his cracked ribs and empty casts,
his unfastened appendix,
his incisor split asunder,
his forever pulled hamstring,
all the cuts, aches and pains
that hurlers have bestowed on him.

 

The song’s fine for a laugh,
but the yanks don’t know
the Sicknote is real and, by
some stroke of luck, still alive.

 

Jay Rafferty is a redhead, an uncle and an eejit. He is the Social Media Manager for Sage Cigarettes Magazine and a Best of the Net Nominee. His poetry has previously been featured in several journals including Capsule Stories, Nymphs, Dodging the Rain, Lights on the Horizon, Broken Spine Arts and the Alcala Review. When not losing games of pool he, sometimes, writes stuff. You can follow him on Twitter @Atlas_Snow