Around the corner
past the Nurses' station
a dead body
my first Code Blue
Twenty minutes of record
CPR, intubation, injections
Pumped oxygen wasted
wrinkled sheets against
the grey onset of rigor mortis,
the body cold, the eyes unfocused
Down the corridor, ten more steps
I quickly walk to the bathroom
I see my flushed face and
feel my hands against my skin
Another deep breath and I am
giving the post mortem care
His last words like the chalk
scratching against a blackboard
the last breaths before the treatment
the last call to inform the doctor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem