untitled by Randi Simpkins

This poem is part of HLP’s “Poem a day” series. For more information and to read other poems, please visit our repository. To read this poem, please click on the image below.

untitled

by Randi Simpkins

I’d rather die of COVID.
Just look in his eyes.
At least I’d be in a bed,
Kinda alone.
They’d help me breathe.
They’d help me breathe.
They. Would.
Help! Me!
BREATHE.
And the masked lady, the one covered from head to toe, might brush by me,
Lay her hand, gentle-like, on my shoulder,
Tell me that it will be ok.
I’d hear her call me Mr. Floyd,
In a respectful kinda way.
Her empathy filling the walls,
Drowning the beeps.
I’d feel her linger just a little bit.
Longer.
They’d clean me,
And change my sheets,
Ceremonial-like.
And just so gentle.
Kind-like.
Kinda like, we’re friends.
We’d walk toward a rapid end,
Together.
On my terms.
Kinda.
They’d give me medicine though,
To take the pain away.
And they’d call my mom,
So she could say,
Good bye.
Good bye.