The Pump

   
The stretcher wheels faster
white coats parting
like urgent waves
surrounded
she clings tightly
to the aloneness
of her soul
 
She tells them
she is not worth saving
but no-one agrees
as they grasp all four limbs
bringing tubes and needles
 
She shakes her head
biting air
storm clouds of resistance
lash indiscriminate rain
they will not invade her
although she knows they must
 
It was not worth this
my pretty one so loving
let me scrawl my name
on the paper wall of death
sleeping as the pen falls
 
for it was not worth this