My M-50 gave me arms and legs,

flanked my liver and spleen,

kept drool off my chin,

fought off catheter and bed pan,

blew away crutches and wheelchair,

pumped itself round by round

into my nightmares,

and its report rings in my ears

all day lone

to remind me I’m still alive.

 
 
 
 
 

Contents / Next Poem / Published Works