I Don't Wash Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

I Don't Wash



I don’t wash

Some ask me of my age
I tell them: “sixty eight”.
They look, laugh, jaws fallen:
“A nice joke, you liar.”

We laugh, talk and they seek the truth.
“I’m honest…I told you the truth…”

They look and verify as if horse or slave
Then smile questions’ like: “Sixty eight? ”

I nod yes with tight lips…
See thunder in their eyes, circling:
“Then why so, very young?
Maximum fifty five…”

“To sickness and doctors I am an, immune.”
I say and, see them all surprised: “How is it? ”

“I don’t wash! ”

They distance as if I don’t ever take shower.
“Not that way…the fruits, vegetable…”
I tell them with reason: “the microbes, viruses,
Parasite and dangers…my blood keeps fighting
Cells become an army…I resist.”

Tuesday, October 6, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: health
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