radioactive dreams

They shot me up like a superhero
waiting to happen
radioactive isotopes burning
through my veins

I make superhero jokes
before the sickness comes
and I have to watch nurses raise
already arched eyebrows at my unhurried heartbeat
that’s somehow managing to keep me
conscious and alive

Pain has no meaning in the dim-lit world
of flickering lights and mindless chatter
I eavesdrop on, though it has no significance
to my medically track-marked arm
or the beeping of machines
every time my heart rate
drops below 45 beats per minute

The corridor narrows to the width of my bed
it’s dark and I don’t mind
under the fading of my consciousness

The hospital rushes around me
and I fall asleep to the sound of my own heartbeat
missing the heart attack victim
and the woman coughing pneumonia
into the cold, sterile air

I don’t dream
but if I could
I’d dream of white walls
and radiation poisoning
waking up like I’m Peter Parker
on a mission to save the world
sometime tomorrow

© Indie Adams 2015