I found the following poem by Cheryl Marie Wade on page 409, of The Disabilities Studies Reader, edited by Lennard J. Davis, Routledge, New York and London, 1997.CRIPPLE LULLABY
I'm trickster coyote in a gnarly-bone suit
I'm a fate worse than death in shit-kickin' boots
I'm the nightmare booga you flirt with in dreams
'Cause I emphatically demonstrate: It ain't what it seems
I'm a whisper, I'm a heartbeat, I'm "that accident," and goodbye
One thing I am not is a reason to die
I'm homeless in the driveway of your maincured street
I'm Evening Magazine's SuperCrip of the Week
I'm the girl in the doorway with no illusions to spare
I'm a kid dosed on chemo, so who said life is fair
I'm a whisper, I'm a heartbeat, I'm "let's call it suicide," and a sigh
One thing I am not is a reason to die
I'm the poster child with doom-dripped eyes
I'm the ancient remnant set adrift on ice
I'm that Valley girl, you know, dying of thin
I'm all that is left of Cheshire Cat's grin
I'm the Wheelchair Athlete, I'm every Baby Doe
I'm Earth's last volcano, and I am ready to blow
I'm a whisper, I'm a heartbeat, I'm a genocide survivor, and Why?
One thing I am not is a reason to die.
I am not a reason to die.