A blue plastic wheel
Spinning slowly on the axle a small electric motor
Quarter-turn a second
Whrrr
Hanging on an aluminum stand of bags & tubes
Pushing a short cylinder of pap
Down a quarter-inch PVC line
Up to the heavens
Down to the floor
Through nose & down bruised esophagus:
Sustenance.
Don't let my last meal come through a tube.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem