Monday, November 7, 2011

the Cure

by Ginger Andrews

Lying around all day
with some strange new deep blue
weekend funk, I'm not really asleep
when my sister calls
to say she's just hung up
from talking with Aunt Bertha
who is 89 and ill but managing
to care for Uncle Frank
who is completely bed ridden.
Aunt Bert says
it's snowing there in Arkansas,
on Catfish Lane, and she hasn't been
able to walk out to their mailbox.
She's been suffering
from a bad case of the mulleygrubs.
The cure for mulleygrubs,
she tells my sister,
is to get up and bake a cake.
If that doesn't do it, put on a red dress.


Anonymous said...

Perfect logic. I wish I'd known that last week when I had the crud. It would at least have been more enjoyable.

Debbie Ong said...

Interesting. Before I read this, I've been struggling with a sinus headache since yesterday. I headed to the kitchen to bake either pumpkin bread or molasses cookies. Hmm. There must be some truth to this!