John F. McCullagh
Cancer Ward - Poem by John F. McCullagh
Antiseptic… white… clean….
Instruments of Stainless steel
.A lazy oscillating light
tracks my heartbeat on a screen.
A long thin needle on the tray
Fascinates my captive stare
Like the cobra with its prey
It will strike me deep this day
The air is institutional
the smell of fear and doom
My king pursued by the pawns of Death
we play my endgame in this room.
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