The Treatment Poem by James L. A. Huetson

I remember after the first time
That they applied the treatment,
I saw all of the edges of my eyes
Then knew that I was trapped.
Trapped in here with no escape.
My skin felt like ancient cupboards
Covered with twenty coats of paint.
It had the look of dried up scales
Of pastry with clusters of small
Black pepper grains running
From my armpits to my nipples.
Lotions, lanolin and plain grease
Are applied in every treatment,
Some through prescription
Others by old maids tales.
All eventually leaving me with
The uncontrollable urge to
Rip off this horrible crust.
Never mind the pain and blood
Grab the edges of the scale
And peal it off! Peal it off!
Then there was the helpless,
Hopeless, humiliation when they
Banned me from the swimming pool,
Or chased me throwing rocks and
Screaming “Fish Skin” at me,
Or ganged up and pummeled me.
Then I discovered that I could not apply
For entrance into the Coast Guard
Academy because they did not
Accept applicants who had
Disfiguring diseases with
Ichthyosis listed as such a disease.
Now after a long and fruitful life
There is no more humiliation,
No more abuse or disappointment.
But I must admit that I eagerly
Anticipate my escape from this
Trap of discomfort when the
Creator of the Universe permits.