Diabetes

I

Sugar 

One night I thirsted like a prince

Then like a king

Then like an empire   like a world

On fire. I rose and flowed away and fell

Once more to sleep. In an hour I was back

In the kingdom   staggering, my belly going round with self-

Made night-water, wondering what

The hell. Months of having a tongue

Of flame convinced me: I had better not go

On this way. The doctor was young

 

And nice. He said, I must tell you,

My friend, that it is needles moderation

And exercise. You don’t want to look forward

To gangrene and kidney

 

Failure   boils blindness infection skin trouble falling

Teeth coma and death.

O.K.

In sleep my mouth went dry

With my answer   and in it burned the sands

 

Of time with new fury. Sleep could give me no water

But my own. Gangrene in white

Was in my wife’s hand at breakfast

Heaped like a mountain. Moderation, moderation,

My friend, and exercise. Each time the barbell

Rose   each time a foot fell

Jogging, it counted itself

One death   two death   three death and resurrection

For a little while. Not bad! I always knew it would have to be

Somewhere around

The house: the real

Symbol of Time I could eat

And live with, coming true when I opened my mouth:

True in the coffee and the child’s birthday

Cake   helping sickness fire-

tongued, sleepless and water-

logged   but not bad, sweet sand

Of time, my friend, an everyday—

A livable death at last.

–James Dickey 

 ic