Poetry

Cardiac Arrest

The flat edge hits my nose.

Sharp. Unwanted.

Thump.

‘An evening of heart’,

the print on my face reads.

Thump.

I’m flung waist-deep into the quadrants –

which door will I choose?

Thump.

Careful! Don’t flood them,

they might burst and leak

Thump.

red wine on the prize rug.

Sweet-talk them. Coax out

Thump.

the opaque scent of mind.

Keep reaching for the string.

Thump.

Really, it’s an advert

for a radio station’s new show.

Thump.

Oh, I see.

What happens next?

Thump.

Thump thump thump.

Thump thump.

Thump.

 

Advertisements