If only fuck it was in my future,
But instead I'm sowing sutures.
Cradling the leg of risk takers,
Catching that last breathe
Before it journeys on a different plane.
Regulating heart pumps,
As clamps fail
Using the nimble fingers
God made so well,
Too preserve that everlasting life
Of human consciousness and feeling.
Malaria has been in my dreams,
As it and cholera
At my attempts
To save my humanity,
But when does the body ever stop.
When do the white coats and blue smocks
To fuck it.
Only the ching ching think that way,
And I care too much
About that fractured skull,
The blocked coronary arteries
and that life drifting from one world
Too the next.
Are calling my name
Are shrieking in
Small houses of milk and clay
Where the rats are big and black,
and she takes his HIV and he
Shrivels with his AIDS.
Neither knowing that the other
I can change that.