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Dave Bonta
long in my blood
full of blood sick
lying on my back
in pain my arm tied up
my waiting word
and I hear a doctor
reach out and turn
to ash
You lay there in a bed
At a hospital
While your loved ones visit you with your illness
And at last you pull yourself to say some words
" I Will Always Love-"
Now asleep
Forever
Welcome to our vertical facility.
Affliction put you in your current
horizontal state. Our machines
will swallow then disgorge you.
Our nurses will swaddle you,
lay you in a basket of morphine,
float you out upon a reservoir of misery.
Our physicians will take note of you.
Lie flat, please, as little waves
of pain lap, nip at your being.
In the white-walled room
Where the white bed waits
Stand banks of meaningless flowers;
In the rain-swept street
Are a ghost-like row of cabs;
And along the corridor-dusk
Phantasmal feet repass.
Through the warm, still air
The odour of ether hangs;
And on this slenderest thread
Of one thin pulse
Hangs and swings
The hope of life--
The life of her
I love!
I caught the smell of ether
From the glass-roofed room
Where the hospital stood.
Suddenly all about me
I felt a mist of anguish
And the old, old hour of dread
When Death had shambled by.
Yellow with time it is,
This letter on which I look;
But up from it comes a perfume
That stabs me still to the heart;
And suddenly, at the odour,
Through a ghost-like mist I know
Rapture and love and wild regret
When Life, and You, went by.