Despite the severity of my trauma you responded in the nick of time;
although I had been conscious, the fogginess in my head is clotting like storm-clouds.
My arteries are always throbbing and then thumping offbeat; on my neck
and on my wrist, my pulse palpitates out of rhythm. I cannot distinguish
between your fingers and the world’s deathly heaviness
urging me toward the ground every moving second.
In the windows, orange streetlights and yellow stars passing faster tell me
I am clinging on, but barely. Still, I have you to thank for my momentary
stabilization during the hospital triage and for parting
the terrible traffic like a sea for the coming forth of emergency. Even if
many of the cars are almost all behind us, sharp turns and shortcuts only
advance our own possible endpoints: a corpse and an empty human surviving on
fumes of hope and the final drips of fading adrenaline. Yet you must
trust the strength of my body the way my soul does, with conviction;
and if I survive, it’ll probably be in response to your careful handling
of my life, your urgency piercing death like sirens through the silenced night.
Steven Kapela has been on this here site featured previously before. Hopefully he’ll keep this stuff coming because we are just loving it.