The Plague Nurses Poem by Kevin Patrick

The intensive care nurses, heard the air exploding
Rushed like clockwork to synthesized heartbeats
Of an old man, cocooned under machines
Then with their military precision
Tried to resuscitate, and bludgeon him
Back into this tiny island of existence
Performing their mystic powers of science;
CPR, Electroshock stimulation,
Moving diligently like an orchestra
Directing themselves to a desperate sonata


Still the Horizontal line
Gave the laughing last applause

Then the exhausted nurse, brushed her
Latex fingers, against his clay facade
Unplugging machines, wires, breathing tubes
Performing the last rites of dignity
While her humanity Closed his eyes,
Glassy with cotton, and heavy as lead,
Removed a rouge lash on his cheek
For posterity, as his salmon skin
turned into a permanent copper tan,
Then covered him under a sheet
As if he was another ghost




The nurses threw away their gloves,
Washed their hands, rinsed and repeat
The same procedures day in and day out
Watching people teeter totter
Between death and life
After awhile they grew calluses
Around their souls, neither Lysol
Or disinfectant, could neatly remove
The grim sooty cynicism
Caking beneath their raw Nerves



They worked together in a hive
That was a melting pot of plague
With little time for chit chats, or
Gossip Gabs, they never engaged
Just reacted to the next disaster
As if it were just another day



Their life's took a turn for the worse
They could not sleep, or eat
Or be near their families.
They lived in tents or garages
And saw their children
Behind glass partitions
As if they were exhibits in a zoo
Made of human misery



One nurse tucked her children at night
Through a computer screen
She would listen to them fall asleep
Watching behind pixels,
Hoping her tears could not be seen