Stomach virus, a poem.

Today my oldest son ate a ton of food for lunch, and then threw it all up in my van on the way home. I felt the best way to share my store was with poetry. I used The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe as my inspiration. I thought he was especially fitting since he had an obsession with the dark and sinister side of life, and my story is no sonnet!  My adaptation isn't perfect, and I should add a few more stanzas, but here's what I've got so far.   =)

Once upon a car ride homeward, while Tommy chattered, looking forward,
About the various X-men and superheroes within Marvel lore,
While I nodded, feigning interest, suddenly there came a retching,
As of someone loudly losing all their lunch from just before.
"Oh no, it's Tommy!" I exclaimed, "Retching on my own van's floor-"
"Oh why now on my floor?!"

 Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the 'hood of Crowfield,
And each convulsion brought another course of lunch upon the floor.
Eagerly wishing to pull over;- vainly looking for some cover 
From the houses that all hover- hover with no space for more-
For one boy to stop and vomit without facing a front door.
Vomit here, forevermore.

 And the mottled, revolting, slimy blob on my own van's carpet
Chilled me- filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, 
"I will have to clean this up before we can ride anymore.
Oh yes, I will have to clean this up before we can ride anymore.
Only me, and no one more."

 Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, 
I looked in the back to see what sacrificial fabric I could find.
All alone lay one brown tablecloth, one lonely pile of swath
With which to cover Tommy's mess, its loss I did not mind.
And the mess now covered I had found my peace of mind.
I can do this, I'm resigned.

 Eventually Tommy's purge was done, I said, "I know this was no fun,
But we must get home to clean this mess and let you rest before
You have another bout of vomiting or another child starts retching,
And I have yet another mess upon my van's sullied floor."
This I whispered, as a sick boy murmured, and my own heart tore.
Only groans and nothing more.

Back in the van, now turning, my stomach within me churning,
Soon we made it safely home, no more illness spewing out the door.
"Surely " said I "surely this will not take long to clean:
Let me see then what cleaning supplies I can find to do this chore."
Spray the cleanser on for a moment, and let baking soda do this chore.
Baking soda and vinegar, nothing more."

...


Okay, I'm tired, but you get the gist. I had entirely too much fun writing this tonight. =)





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