Love to do something naughty
Then intone, I'm going to hell for that.
It's just that I so hate ambiguity
If there is a hell, and it's so hard to avoid it
I'd rather have all doubt removed
At least then I know the round trips destination.
At the hospital once, where we'd taken my mother
My dad commented she'd had something
Going on in the nether regions, that seemed not right
I said, we'd better tell them to check that too
She was in the throes of a kidney infection
But in the elderly it can resemble
Nothing so much, as a stroke
Leaving the patient dull, and non responsive
So, the young intern came in, pulling rubber gloves
Over his hands, telling us we'd have to leave
For a minute- the light went on then
Inside my head, and I smiled.
Listen, I told my dad,
We're going to hell for this one...
At least this time we were going together.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem