New Poem

Ground Glass

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.

Tammi Truax

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