The only freedom I've been longing for
is to go back to the blissful time
when I had no idea
how I would die.
Now I contemplate my covid comorbidities
and consider, should doctors see
the telltale ‘ground glass’ in my lungs
what might happen next ...
First, I develop pneumonia, a crushing pain in the lungs
I've known before. Then, perhaps weeks later, I wane
by a parade of organ failures; lungs, kidneys, liver,
or an explosion coming as a stroke or heart attack.
Respiratory distress is an agonizing way to go.
Someone, if I am lucky enough to have someone,
will titrate my morphine, if I am lucky enough to have morphine,
and relieve my air hunger. Will, if I am lucky, help me die.
Until the blissful time returns, I'll stay home.
When I must venture out, I'll wear a mask
so you are free to worry less about ‘ground glass’
and if you were to return the favor
that would be
ever so kind.
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