Suicide / Abortion

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The drip sunk in his arm

he looks out; sees the bone beneath the nurses’ skin,

loose in their leanings. 

 

It is over : death

out of his vein, the drip

sunk in,

the drip with its minced testicle of blandishment.

 

They will save his life,

abort a quintessential,

struggling gentleness, a life he has

placed in her womb,

a tiny pulse too light.

 

“It is ridiculous,” he murmurs,

as the pretty nurse leans over, tightening the band.

The blood thumps into strained normality,

the overdose has petered out in yellow urination

 

dripping tears.

A pull, and it is out

in the bucket.

 

Squashed, he continues,

suicidal, for tumultuous reasons, small abortions, live.

 

from "Poems People Liked (2)"

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