THE RED CROSS
Antiseptic smells that corrode the nostrils
Crumble me,
Eat me deep,
And my garments disintegrate.
First my nightgown,
Leaving my naked arms and legs disjointed,
Sprawled about the bed in postures meaningless to the point of obscenity.
My breasts shrivel,
The nipples drawn like withered plums
To the eyes of the bright young nurse
I am nothing but a dull eye myself,
An eye out of a socket,
Bursting,
Contorted with hideous wisdom.
Eye to eye we fight in the death throes,
Myself and the young nurse.
Her firm crisp aproned breast leans toward the bed
As she smooths the rumpled pillow back
With long cool fingers.
ISOLATION WARD
We are the separate centers of consciousness
Of all the universes.
We vibrate statically on a trillion golden wires.
Our trillion golden fingers twine in the weltering darkness
And grasp tremblingly,
Aware in agony
Of the things we can never know.
