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A question to be answered, please:
Why do most men avoid M.D.s?
At thoughts of office calls we scoff
unless there's something falling off.
And if our ankle's had a twist
we hop around and then insist
that it's improving very well
although, of course, it hurts like hell.
Sinus pressures, nasty fevers,
failures of most pain relievers,
bellies sad and oozing sores
propel us not through clinic doors.
The answer to this riddle, though,
is well concealed--although we know
that such recalcitrant displays
are just one part of manly ways.
This poem first appeared in Light Poetry Magazine.
Used here with permission.
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Phil Huffy had a long career "doing something else," but then he moved on, finding his voice and achieving publication of dozens of poems on many subjects. When not busily writing at his kitchen table in western New York, Phil enjoys hiking, camping, and cycling. His books include three poetry collections; Rhymal Therapy, a collection of limericks; and Magic Words, a poetry collection for children.
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