I felt the touch of a serpent, but it was only silver,
a sweep of the stethoscope against my skin.
My lungs gasped as the monitor counted — one, two, three,
everything existed except my life.

A sweep of the stethoscope against my skin,
at 4 in the morning my footsteps crested, embedded.
Everything existed except my life,
the ward was silent, night creeping in.

At 4 in the morning my footsteps crested, embedded,
my mother relieved, sweat tracing her face.
The ward was silent, night creeping in,
her smile a dangling wire, singing of hope.

My mother relieved, sweat tracing her face,
wish I were just bleeding red and not wilting black.
Her smile a dangling wire, singing of hope,
a fool, forbidden even to scream — lest mother weep.

Wish I were just bleeding red and not wilting black,
from dark ward walls to fluorescent glare of classroom.
A fool, forbidden even to scream — lest mother weep,
feeding pipes, oxygenated narrow tubes — the true companions I ever had.

From dark ward walls to fluorescent glare of classroom,
surface poise, a practiced smile they judge.
Feeding pipes, oxygenated narrow tubes — the true companions I ever had,
the odour of detergent confirms I am not dead.

Surface poise, a practiced smile they judge,
my lungs gasped as the monitor counted — one, two, three,
the odour of detergent confirms I am not dead,
I felt the touch of a serpent, but it was only silver.