ICU   2 comments

In the ICU

like guinea pigs
we lay our little ears
on a warm belly or chest
like a dream

and tap our tiny teeth
on baby carrots
pulled tender and pointed
from a soft garden
not round, peeled and put in plastic bags

somewhere the sun circles up
to greet a child tasting sweet corn
or the squirt of an orange
for the first time

three of us from work
visit our gray-haired friend
I rub her stiff shoulders
and cut her coarse hair
sometimes a guinea pig
sits under her jacket
and holds his own carrot

if we could remember all the “firsts”
those moments of no return
would death be even harder than now

Mary Strong Jackson


Posted October 11, 2013 by strongjacksonpoet54 in Uncategorized

2 responses to “ICU

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