The clock is ticking
A line for infusion
The room is still
There is a delusion
that sets in, I'm drifting off
I slide, I sleep, I dream, I cough
Or so I'm told
I'm not like most
I hear the whispers
"She's as white as a ghost"
Eleven p.m. and the hall goes dim
Ever changing rooms
I'm not sure I'm in
the same room as I was yesterday
But no matter, I'm here to stay
for awhile
They change my clothes
like I'm a child
What is your name? I'm not like most
"Good God," he says
"She's as white as a ghost"
Emergency rooms
The nurses--they appear
to be a bit alarmed and
I suspect it isn't clear
Just what it is that they should do
I'm bleeding out, I'm bleeding through
the starchy sheet
so very clean
It's a problem for the team
What do we do? We do we do?
She's bleeding out
She's bleeding through
Intubate, calculate, resuscitate, restraint
Hold her down
Inject
Clamp....
Then wait
The clock is ticking
A line for sedation
The room is still
And a tiny elation
sets in, before I sleep
I try to turn, but I'm so weak
I feel so cold
The whispers all around
I feel so cold
The beeping...that sound
I feel so cold
I'm awake...almost
"You've survived," he says
"But you're as white as a ghost"
(c) Mary Ann Farley 2019
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Again Randi, thank you. That poem was hanging around in an old notebook for a long time. I've got a bunch like that, stuffed here and there. Thank you for reading!
So raw, and beautifully written. Wow.