Hypoxia

JENNIFER GRIMES

[pdf]

​

​

In the respiratory ICU where softly do we lie

In bed by rows like coffins, buried blankets, machines sigh

Yet living in angelic whites like time draws deathly nigh

Each precious breath I draw bleeds air through with a wheezing cry.

 

I smoked for many years in youth, I know

Yet never thought I’d deign in truth to blow

A breath ratio that troubles them so…

The seeds of COPD did then sow.

 

Now gasping, rasping, grasping late,

Knuckles whitened, face blanched like slate

Strained in exacerbated state

Can’t breathe out fast, my latest spate

 

Lungs of air, sweat soaked

Sheets that bind, chest choked

Breathe faster, fire stoked

Can’t breathe out, ribs broke

 

Pull and sip

On air’s tip

One last slip

‘Til I

expire

​